


Overwatch: Wraiths

by Papallion



Series: Overwatch: Wraiths [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Asexual Character, Blind Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Body Horror, Dad Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, F/F, Fantasy Violence, Gay Character, Genetically Engineered Beings, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, M/M, Moon Echo, Multi, Original Character(s), Post-Recall, Pretty Much the Whole Cast Will be Here Soon - Freeform, Vermilion Lau Jìng Bō
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-05-29 08:39:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papallion/pseuds/Papallion
Summary: The year is 2080, and Overwatch has been working in silence for two years. World governments have a vague idea about a mercenary strike them, but Overwatch is not the only clandestine operation.  Bounty hunters and mercenaries are active in this world still at war with itself.  It’s dangerous out there.Wiston leads and is in charge of Overwatch, but Morrison leads in the field.  They’ve managed to find a balance, and things are working well.An intruder breaks into a lab Overwatch is 'borrowing,' and they take him into custody.  Meanwhile wraiths, people with Reaper's abilities, have been assaulting people and creating terror.I'm going with a few head cannons here.Jack Morrison is blind without his visor.Hanzo has prosthetic feet.Winston is somewhat a celebrity, asked to lecture and make appearances.  People know his lives on The Rock, but assume it’s for privacy reasons.My first take on the story, Book of Moons, (horrible name, I suck at naming) is dead.Feel free to correct me, beta read me, follow my Tumblrhttp://papallion.tumblr.com/





	1. Home Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intruder sneaks into the lab Winston is 'borrowing' and causes a scene, and Morrison ends it the best way he knows how.

Winston continued to look into his microscope, and Lena continued to talk.  “And then, get this,” she was saying, “she just flies into the air on a broomstick!”  

Winston nodded and made a noise, then took a few notes.  

“And there is a great big song about flying and it’s really tops!”

“Tops?” Winston asked and looked over, the new slang catching his attention.

Lena laughed and winked.  “Just making sure you were listening, love!”

“Always, Lena.”  He returned to his microscope.  “I’m glad you and Emily had fun.  I love theatre.” 

Lena just knew he used the fancy spelling when he said ‘theatre.’  

“How long is it running?  I might try to get tickets.”  Winston was not unwelcome in England’s theater district.

“Until at least December.  What are you studying there?” she asked, honestly wanting an answer.

“It’s a new bacterium we pulled from a deep sea volcanic vent.  I’m hoping we might learn a few things from its cell walls, it’s an amazing survivor.  I’m hoping with can use it to help rebuild cell walls.” He refocused his lenses. “Care to see?”

“Sure!” Lena said and took a peek.  “Well, it’s a neat shade of purple, it is.”  She never had any clue what she was looking at, but Winston’s love of science was so vibrant she couldn’t help but love it, too.

“That’s the beet dye I used to stain it, oh, hello.”  

Lena looked up and she and Winston stared at the man who rippled into existence.  He seemed startled they could see them, grabbed a book from the table and took off.  His long white hair flickered behind him as he dashed out the door.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Lena snapped and took off after him.  Each time she turned a corner it felt like she was just catching his hair as it flicked through a door, and she poured on the speed.  “There you are!” The alarms had kicked in and security doors were slamming shut and he was out of places to run.

The figure muttered as he skid to a halt, trapped in a fresh dead end, and he turned.  His hair wasn’t just white, she realized, but had a halo and three columns of tiny black braids.  He wore slim black clothes with silver claws and white trim, and his jacket sleeves ended in flared cuffs above his elbows.  Some sort of silver pistols clung to the outside of black armbands, round goggles covered his eyes, and his features were hidden by his faceplate.  He was barely taller than Lena herself.

“Drop the book, darling, and no one gets hurt!”  

The man slowly raised his hands, book slipping in his grip, and Lena nodded at him.  He took a few steps sideways, and she tilted her head at him. 

“And what are you up to?” she asked.

“Nothing much,” he said quietly with a soft accent, and suddenly he was behind her.  

Lena had the awful feeling of being shoved, much like being on a spinning carnival ride for a few moments.  She snatched at him but he was off again. “Winston! Teleporter!” she shouted, and took off again. When had he planted a transmitter?  She didn’t see a teleport pad or device in the hall on her way in. Luckily only herself, Winston and Morrison were at the old Barcelona Watchpoint as Winston studied the samples.  She spotted Winston down the hall, taking broad swipes at the intruder, but the white haired man was nimble and fast.

He leapt over Winston and stood briefly on his arm, and pulled two small handguns.  He suddenly wobbled, though, and fell backwards. As he took aim Winston stepped back, and the teleporter took off again down a hall.  

Lena dashed in front of him, getting a feel for his speed, and the intruder skid to a halt and turned around.  “Oh, teleporters! I hate teleporters!” she snapped as he vanished back towards Winston. Where  _ had  _ he stashed his teleport pods?

Winston swung out, and his backhand hit the stranger on his way by, slamming him against the wall and cracking his chest plate.  Winston gripped him and slammed him against the wall again, and he swatted a gun from his hand. It retreated to his cuff, and Winston pressed him against the wall.

“Let go!” he snapped, trying to pry Winston’s fingers from his chest. 

Winston stared at him carefully.  He tried to teleport, but Winston held firm. He could feel the teleporter jerk under his hands, but he seemed unable to move, now.  “Curious little critter, aren’t you?” he stated.

“Let me go!”  The teleporter kicked and thrashed, but couldn’t get free.

“Interesting,” Winston mused.  “Can’t teleport when you’re restrained, can you?  Am I blocking your receiver, or just preventing you from leaving?”

The thief struggled, kicking out, and Winston realised he was Lena’s height.  Was he young or just short? 

“Let!  Me! Go!”  His voice was and angry tenor, and Lena had the image of a cranky hedgehog.

“Not much of a thief, is he?” Lena chirped as she plucked the book from his hands.  

A pistol slid down and into the thief's hand and he started shooting blind.  The electric bolt bounced off the floor and hit Lena’s thigh, and Winston slammed him against the wall twice.  

The thief’s head bounced and he gave a shout of pain and rage.

Winston wrenched the guns away, grimacing when the wiring shocked him.  He wondered if the thief was shocked as well as he crushed the shoulder straps in his hand to rip off the chest piece.  He flung the thief to the floor and braced a foot on him.

Lena stood up.  “That smarts!” The bolt had lost most of its impact when it ricocheted off the floor.

The thief sprawled on the floor, coughing, and glared up at him.  

Winston sighed down at him.  “If you’re quite finished,” he started, and the teleporter jerked under his foot.  Winston flailed, off balance, and he took off again. “Lena, be a dear?”

“On it, love!”  As Lena rounded the corner there was a wet thud and she spotted Jack Morrison down the hall.  

He had taken one look at the teleporter and quickly brought him down with a single punch.  He had one foot planted on the intruder’s back as he gripped him by the back of the head.

The teleporter curled up on himself, and he was done.  

“Winston, quick, Jack might have broken him!”

“And what’s going on here?” Morrison bent down and pulled his mask away.

He groaned and stayed put this time and Morrison was startled just how young he looked.


	2. A Quick Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prisoner gets questioned and shipped home to Watchpoint: Gibraltar.

August 04, 2080, Early Sunday Afternoon

There was pink foam on his lips from a split lip when Morrison hit him.  It was a miracle Morrison hadn’t broken his jaw or loosened any teeth. 

When Winston slammed him against the wall two ribs had broken away from the cartilage between them, and while painful, it wasn’t fatal.  

The thief’s wrists were now handcuffed behind him, his ankles were handcuffed to the legs of his chair and he was breathing shallowly and sitting quietly.

It had taken Winston a few minutes to tidy him up.  The thief sat silently as Winston had him rinse his mouth and helped him wash his face.  He was slightly noisier as Winston used a sonic device to put his ribs on the mend, hissing and pulling back.  After checking his vitals Winston declared him fit for gentle interrogation, Jack. Gentle. Winston was concerned about his thin form, weight, and age, or lack thereof.  

Jack Morrison opened the door and let himself in as Winston let himself out.  They had almost half an hour before extraction and returning to the Rock, and he wanted to get some questions in.

Morrison walked over and against the man’s protests, pulled off his goggles.  The teen was of Asian descent, that much was certain. “Oh, interesting, heterochromia iridum, mismatched eyes.  Rare.” When the thief asked for his goggles, complaining about the light, Winston had given them back.

The thief’s left eye was gold and his right green, and Morrison wondered if they were contact lenses or bionic.  

Morrison was startled to see how young the teen was up close, possibly sixteen or even fifteen, still round and soft and nonthreatening looking.  Morrison could only think of an angry chipmunk, and he wondered what cute critter the others thought of.

“So, what do we have here?” he asked as he pulled open a file with two pages in it.  Morrison sat down and made a show of reading the pages, flipping them over and putting them back in the file.  He knew his two-pack-a-day voice threatened some, and it seemed to work on the teen.

The young man glared up at him, struggling to breathe.  He was obviously scared, but so defiant at the same time.

“Well, Winston’s given me the go ahead to interrogate you, so let’s get this started.  What’s your game, punk?” 

The young man remained quiet, and Morrison turned the pages over.  

“Got a name, at least?”  

The teen remained quiet, and Morrison sighed at him.  

“How old are you?”  Morrison was greeted with more silence.  “Where’s your teleport tech?” 

The teen looked down to his lap again, then at the wall.  

“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

As he stood the teen flinched, pulling away as best he could, and Morrison mused on this for a bit.  “Or we can do it the easy way. Your choice. You got a name?” 

The teen continued to flinch each time Morrison moved.  Morrison sighed, wondering just how harsh the kid’s life was.  He was reminded of a nervous bird with each twitch the kid made.

“Those ribs look pretty painful.  I might have to examine them.” Morrison put a hand on the table near him and reached over and gripped his chin.  “How old are you?” 

“I don’t have to answer to you!” he snapped, a Chinese accent in his voice.  The teen tried to pull away, and Morrison let him.

Morrison put his hand over the left side of the teen’s chest and the teen flinched again, then glared at him.  

“He was right.  You don’t have the guts.”

“Who?”  

When he didn’t answer Morrison brought his hand down slowly on the teen’s side.  

“Who.”  

The teen winced and pulled away before Morrison could touch him.

“Who.”

“Reaper,” he hissed, trying to pull away.  “Hound.” 

It didn’t matter if it were Hound himself or his criminal organization, failure was not looked upon happily.  As far as Morrison knew Hound was on Doomfist’s short list of people to shove off of a building.

“Right, then, we have two options.  Option one. You tell me everything and I lock you away,” he started, and the teen scoffed.  “Or option two. I let you go and Hound knows you failed your initiation test.” Morrison leaned forward.  “And by extension, Doomfist. You know how he hates failures.” 

The kid pulled back, breathing funny, and suddenly pulled his newly freed hands up, cuff dangling from his right wrist.

‘How’d he slip the cuffs?’ Morrison thought as the kid’s hands slammed into his face and gripped his visor.  Morrison easily hauled his hands away, grimacing as the visor flickered. He gripped the kid’s wrists and shoved him, giving him a shake.  

The teen was now spent, and he sat back.  

“OK, thrown to Hound it is.”  

“No, stop!” he snapped and Morrison pushed him back in the chair.  “You can’t!”

“I need release forms, Tracer.  Let’s cut him loose. Strap a chute to him and drop him in Venice.”

The kid’s face was fearful and he struggled under Morrison’s hands.  “You can’t!” he protested, and Morrison twisted his arms behind his back and slapped the cuffs back on a little rougher than was necessary.  He then adjusted his visor back into place.

“Then give me something to work with.  What’s your name.” It was a demand, not a question.  “Your. NAME. Who do I shout ‘bye bye’ to when I shove you out of the helicopter?”

“Moon Echo.  They call me Moon Echo,” he said quietly as Morrison loomed over him.  It wasn’t hard, since Morrison had most a foot on the tiny thing. He was barely taller than Lena.

“And your age.”  The moment he asked, Morrison pegged the teen to be sixteen at the oldest.

“I don’t know.  Seventeen?” he guessed, and Morrison continued to glare.  “It’s not like we celebrate birthdays there, OK?” His voice became quieter.  “I think I’m seventeen?” 

Morrison nodded and returned to the observation room and fetched another pair of cuffs with long chains.

Winston had been watching through the glass.  “How did you know that would work? Threatening to release him?” he asked.  His research was packed and ready to go.

“Not much else it could be but an initiation run.  And he flinched. A lot. He’s used to being punished.”  Morrison shook his head, then pulled his visor off, blinked heavily, and pulled it back on.  “Punk must had pulled a sensor loose. Hound believes that weakness should be exploited, then punished, then removed.  Cutting him loose is a death sentence and he knows it.”

“So what are we going to do with him?  A quick look showed me his tech wasn’t in his chest plate.  I’m not sure how he teleports, but I’ve got an idea.” Winston tugged on his chin.  “There’s also something about his hands. I’ll need his gloves. Something in how he slipped the cuffs.  And his goggles. I turned them off, but Athena detected communication software when he stood up.”

Morrison nodded at Winston.  He let Moon stew for a few minutes as he reviewed the surveillance tapes.

Moon had flickered once in the hall as he entered the lab, been spotted, and ran.  Athena had detected his invisibility and turned the suit off. His movements were quick and precise, possibly following his path on the way in.

At first Morrison thought the teen had expertly ducked Winston for twenty seconds.  That was no small feat, but a second glance told him the kid was just flailing around and trying not to get hit.

Winston couldn’t help but grimace as he watched himself slam Moon into the wall.  “I didn’t realize how flimsy his armor was, or how young he is. I would have been gentler.”

“He’s a dangerous intruder, Winston.  You did fine.” Morrison clapped Winston’s shoulder and returned to the interrogation room.  

Moon glared at him and lowered his eyes quickly and nervously.  He protested loudly when Morrison took the goggles and dropped them on the table.  “It’s too bright in here!”

Morrison wrapped the chains around Moon’s elbows and latched them, locking him down further.  He then tapped the top of Moon’s left hand and undid the cuff on his wrist. “OK, Moonboy, gloves.”  

Moon Echo paled and tried to shrink away from him, fear and embarrassment on his face.

“Please don’t.”  His voice was small and full of fear, and Morrison ignored him and lifted Moon’s left hand.  “No, stop!” 

Morrison wrestled with him and tried to pull the glove off, but there was a solid metal ring around his wrist.  It felt odd, too, like his fingers were flopping around.

“Stop it, you’ll break it!”  Moon’s voice broke and Morrison paused.

He was concerned how frail Moon felt under his hands, how little he could resist his grip.  “Then take them off.” 

When Moon paused, Morrison continued to pry at them.  Moon cried out when Morrison got his fingers under the round cuff.

“OK, OK, fine, just, OK.  OK. I, it’s a two-handed job, OK?”  Moon pulled his hand away tried to reach it with his right, and Morrison let his left elbow go.  Moon pulled his wrists together and connected the circular design on the center of the bands and rotated.  The wristband of the gloves unsealed and loosened, and the bands relaxed. 

Morrison took Moon’s hand and hauled his glove off, then saw what was left of the kid’s hand.  

“Don’t,” he said softly.  “Don’t stare at me.”

Moon’s fingers were mostly gone, and his hands and wrists were covered with chemical burns.  He had most of his left thumb, but almost none of his fingers save a little bit of pinky. There was barely enough to make a cup for his prosthetic fingers.  

Morrison locked his elbow again then pulled the other glove off, seeing more of the same, and his lips twitched under his face plate.  He felt sorry for the teen as he looked away, shame and embarrassment on his round face. He locked Moon’s elbows and wrists down and left the room.  Morrison gave the gloves to Winston, then rooted in a drawer. “Got a scarf or anything?”

Lena pulled something from her travel bag.  “Here, use this.” 

Morrison found a random bandana, most likely Jesse’s, as Lena handed him a peach handkerchief with a lace trim.  He returned to the interrogation room, covered what remained of Moon’s hands, and left. 

“Oh, that poor little duck!”

Winston was turning the gloves over in his hands.  “There’s a lot of advanced cybernetic technology in here.  It’s how he got out of the first cuffs, he just slid his gloves off.  Very daring.” That explained how his fingers felt so loose and floppy.

“So what do we do with him?” Lena asked.  “Turn him over to M16? Or the Spanish equivalent?”

“Not yet, we can still get information from him.  I want to know how he teleports, Winston, sooner, rather than later.”  

Winston nodded at Morrison.  

Their communicators chimed, and Morrison nodded.  “He’s early, let’s go.”

Morrison returned to the room and started to uncuff Moon, tying the bandana and the handkerchief as best he could to keep them from slipping.  “Up, we’re leaving.” Morrison cuffed the teen to his right arm.

“Don’t wanna,” Moon suddenly pouted.

He had to drag Moon to stand up, and finally slung him over his shoulder.

“Hey, down!  Put me down!” Moon snapped and struggled.  

Morrison rolled him to the ground, and Moon slumped to the floor, so Morrison shook his head and scooped him up again.  

“Where are you taking me?  Put me down!” 

“No time, kid.”  Morrison carted him in a fireman’s carry to the elevator, and Winston pressed the button.  

Morrison thought it was a strange elevator ride, but it wasn’t his weirdest.  It reminded him of a stupid joke one told at a sports bar after one too many shots.  

So an extremely intelligent gorilla, a lesbian with chronal disassociation, and a grizzled soldier with a terrorist slung over his shoulders ride to the roof in an elevator with a buzzing light and a music system that played nothing but the first twenty seconds of The Sound of Music’s opening theme on repeat.  They get in a hovership flown by a cowboy and fly to a small island off the coast of Gibraltar.

There is no punchline.

“This is our ride.  In with you,” Morrison snapped and hauled the wriggling teen into the transport.  He dragged him by the elbow to the cargo area and held him down as Lena threaded his ankle chain through the supports, then clipped his left hand to the wall.  “Stay put.”

Moon tried to make a threatening noise, but it didn’t work.  “I want my goggles back!” he snapped, and Morrison looked to Winston.

“No, they have a communicator in them,” the gorilla sighed.

“I don’t like the lights in here!” Moon snapped.

“Here, love!” Lena chirped and handed him a spare pair of aviators.

Moon sulked, slouching in his seat, and eagerly slide the sun glasses on.  “The lighting sucks in here.” The glasses took up half of his round face.

“I know he’s a terrorist and all,” Lena hissed to Winston, “but he’s so cute!  He’s like the worst evil person ever!”

“He shot you, Lena,” Morrison reminded her.  He could hear Jesse protesting in the front seat, but Lena hushed him.  “You gonna behave on the trip, kid?”

Moon crossed his arms as best he could and continued to sulk.  

Morrison sighed a little too loudly, then sat himself down on the bench across from him.  Being just over six feet was a blessing for a soldier, but a curse for anything else. He had to sit slightly hunched over, and he knew his legs would cramp up soon.  After about five minutes of cranky silence, he ended up bracing a leg next to Moon.

Moon glared at him at first, then slouched down even lower and tilted away from the offending limb.  

“You’ll kill your back that way,” Morrison snapped, and Moon snorted at him.  “How long until we land?” Morrison called to the front.

“Just under an hour, dear!” Lena called back, and both Morrison and Moon sighed.

Morrison used his visor to go over the security tapes and readings, spotting simple mistakes the kid kept making.  Why send in such a young and inexperienced kid? The visor flickered and went blank for a few seconds. He smacked the side of the visor again and continued watching.  As he was trying to find the door or window Moon entered, he heard a soft noise.

He looked up and spotted Moon’s head nodding.  The kid must have been exhausted by his ordeal.  Morrison wonder just how young the kid really was, when Moon gave a snorting sigh and fell against Morrison’s knee.  

He looked so tired and young.

Morrison sighed and watched him for a while, then returned to trying to make his visor work.  He adjusted his legs and Moon made a soft sound, and Winston looked back.

“Is he really sleeping?” he asked, and Morrison nodded.  “Well, if he can sleep like that, I suppose he needs the rest.”  He pulled out his datapad and started to read.

Morrison adjusted his leg so the edge of the bench didn’t dig into his heel and closed his eyes, but he didn’t really rest.  Every time Moon shifted Morrison watched him, but the kid was just trying to sleep and breathe at the same time.

As with all things, the ride was eventually over.  “Almost there, gents!” Lena called from the cockpit.  

Morrison reached over and shook Moon awake.  “We’re landing.” 

Moon jumped, slid down, then pulled himself back up as Morrison undid his ankles.  “Welcome to your new home for the time being,” Morrison said as he gripped Moon’s arm.  “Watchpoint: Gibraltar.” 

Moon stood, partially stunned by the bright sunlight and balmy weather, and Morrison tugged him along.  

“Come on, kid, let’s get you processed.”

Moon tugged back, then relaxed. “Fine.”  He was sullen and cranky, and Morrison wasn’t surprised. 

He took the teen by the arm and started to haul him along, and Moon suddenly went limp.  Morrison sighed and turned around, and with a jerk on his arm Moon was gone. He had slipped his cuff again.  “Damn it all, the kid just doesn’t know when to give it up,” he muttered. “Lena, he’s gone.”

“On it, boss!” Lena chirped with a salute and took off quickly.  She dashed in a circle, widening her arc until she spotted the flicker of his hair near the edge.  

The white reflected sunlight beautifully, shimmering like a mirage.  

“There you are!”  She skid to a halt near Moon, but he didn’t look at her.

“Is this an island or something?” he finally asked quietly, and she grinned and nodded.  “Oh.” With that he crouched down, squatting with his chin on his knees. “Oh.” His voice was quiet and scared.  “Water. Everywhere.”

“Come on, love, let’s get you inside.”  Lena gently took his shoulders, but Moon didn’t move.  She felt she could have carried him, but instead she sat by him.  “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” 

Moon nodded shallowly at her. 

“You ever see the ocean before?” she asked, and he shook his head.  “You just want to look at it for a while? The ocean?”

“There’s nowhere to go.”

Lena nodded at him and clicked her communicator.  “I’m certain the commander won’t mind if we just sit and catch our breath until Jesse gets here, right?”  She sat with him quietly, and finally Jesse McCree walked up, slowly with heavy footsteps.

He had understood her message and gave her a few minutes, letting the teen calm down.  “This him?” he asked, and Lena nodded. “C’mon, kid, bossman wants you processed before nightfall and I got dinner to make.”  Jesse clipped a chain to Moon’s wrist and latched it to his right arm, then gently got him standing and started leading him away.  “There’s a man.”

Moon was short and his ankles were cuffed so Jesse had to walk slower than his six foot frame liked.  If Jesse were so inclined, he could easily rest his chin on the top of Moon’s head like he did Lena’s from time to time.  He resisted, though, and led him to the main entrance. 


	3. Shipped, Processed and Handled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon Echo gets processed into the system and Angela takes a look at him.

“Got’em, boss, just gonna take him to processing, now.”  

Morrison nodded and opened the door, and Jesse gave a gentle tug.  

Moon followed, head down, and Morrison took the chain from Jessie.  

“I’ve got him.  You get dinner started.  I’m certain everyone’s hungry,” Morrison said as he clipped Moon’s chain to his right wrist.

Jesse nodded and walked to the kitchen as Morrison led Moon into the processing room.  The door shut and sealed itself behind them. 

“First thing first, kid, shower.  You reek. Clothes go here.” He gestured to a storage bin.

“I don’t want to,” Moon whined softly.

“I’m going to uncuff you now.  No windows, one door. Locked form the outside.  Unless you can teleport through solid objects, which Winston doubts, it’s just us.”  Morrison undid the cuffs, and knelt down to get his ankles. He expected Moon to resist, but he just sighed and tucked the remains of his hands in his armpits.

“Fine.  Whatever.  Keep your hands to yourself,” Moon muttered, and pulled his jacket off.  He folded it carefully and put it in the storage tub, then his boots. 

Morrison was impressed with what dexterity Moon’s diminished hands had.  

The teen stipped his shirt off and Jack inwardly winced at him.  Moon was obviously underweight, and had been badly abused. Under the bruise Winston had given him was a series of lashes and poorly healed scars that went from his shoulders and upper arms to his thighs.  

He had a pair of myoelectric sensors on his clavicle and another near each armpit, matching the ones on the bottom of his wrists.  Morrison was interested in the data port on his back, between possibly his third and fourth vertebrae, but he didn’t touch it or ask about it.  He wasn’t wearing socks or underwear, and Morrison could count his ribs and vertebrae. 

“Satisfied?” Moon asked, hands over his genitals.

“Hair ties, too.”  

Moon sighed, turned around, and started plucking the twenty some odd leather ties from his tiny, waist length braids.  Moon pulled the last hair band out, then Morrison gave him a quick once over and pointed. 

“Get in the shower.”  He hit the FROST button, obscuring Moon from the chest down, and he quickly showered and washed his hair.  On most people it would only obscure their waist, but Moon’s ribs were easily hidden. Morrison handed him a towel, and once Moon was ready, the briefs.

“Does it have to be this?”  Morrison nodded and Moon pulled them on.  They sagged a little in the back, and Morrison handed over the sleep pants, t-shirt and house slippers.  Everything hung off of him and he sighed. “I’m cold.”

“You’re too skinny.  We’ll get a hot meal in you in a few minutes.”  Morrison opened his clipboard and pulled out a fingerprint kit.  “Dry your hands.” 

Moon let him take his palm prints, rolling his stumps to catch the ends.  

Morrison scratched out and initialed the squares for his fingerprints, and took his photo next to the height chart.  He was just over five feet, four inches, barely taller than Mei, Lena, and Lúcio in bare feet. “Put your shoes on. Now, we’re going to get you a lookover with Dr. Ziegler and then some supper.  Here.”

Moon sighed as Morrison held out the cuffs.  He seemed to be weighing his options, and finally held out his hands.  

Morrison cuffed his wrists behind him and then his ankles and Moon sunk to the ground.  “This again? Up you go.”

Moon groaned in agitation and stood back up.  “I’ll walk.” He was surly in the way only a teen could be, and Morrison chained his cuffs to his left arm.  

“Athena?  The door, please.”  

The door slid open and they started walking, and Moon slowly ground to a halt.  

Morrison turned, put his shoulder to Moon’s waist, and hauled him up despite his protests.  “We got a schedule, kid.” 

Moon struggled a little, then stopped, and Morrison got him to the medical wing with no issue.  

He put him down and Angela Ziegler sighed at him.  “Here we go, Angie. One kid, processed and shipped.”

“Jack!” she snapped at him.  “That is no way to treat a patient!”

“I’m not a patient,” Moon said flatly.  “I’m processed.”

“Well, uncuff him and let me get a look at him.  On the scale, please.” 

Moon let himself be weighed and measured, then Morrison looped his ankle chain around a brace of the examination table, and Angela gave Moon a once over.  He was barely one hundred and ten pounds, and Angela shook her head. 

“Winston said your ribs were hurt?” she asked and made a few notes on her data pad.

Moon sniffed at her.  “And my jaw. Jack here hit me.”  

Angela gave Morrison a deadly glare and Morrison crossed his arms and looked away.  

“My ribs hurt.  I’m hungry. My hair’s still wet and I’m cold.”  Moon melted a little, and Angela grabbed a blanket to drape over him as she shined a light in his eyes.

“Where did you get these from?” she asked as she changed tools.  “Here, follow the light, please.” She was not pleased with the results, and Moon wilted a little more.  “They’re not focusing or tracking right, I’ll have Winston look at them in the morning. Will you be OK with these for a few more nights?”  So he did have bionic eyes.

Moon shrugged.  “Been using them for a few years now, I’m used to them.”

“Shoddy work, we’ll get you better ones.  May I see your hands?” 

Moon reluctantly held them out, and she flipped them over in her hands.

She was not pleased.  “The skin grafts are well done, but I’m unsure about these ports.  Do you hands give you any trouble?”

“They don’t hurt,” he said with a shrug.  “Can’t feel much.”

“That’s troubling.”  She could feel Moon tugging, trying to get away, and she let him take his hands back and tuck them under his armpits.  “We’ll discuss them in more detail later, but I don’t see any immediate danger. Take off your shirt, please, I want to see your ribs.”  

Moon pulled his shirt off and Angela listened to him breathe.  

“I’m worried about that breathing of yours!” she said as she pulled her stethoscope away from his chest.  “At least Winston got your ribs on the mend.” 

“I’ve had worse.”  

She pulled back a little.  What happened to this kid? “Do your deep breath, please.”  

Moon sighed, then took a breath.  “I know how to sleep and breathe and all that.”  

“Good, thank you.  That’s horrifying to hear.  I’m going to examine your port, now.”  

Moon sat still as she touched the edges, figuring out how to open it.  The iris slid open and she fetched a small brush to sweep the fuzz out.  It looked like an infection was starting around the edge of the port, a common event when neglected.  She quickly wiped him down with a biotic wipe, and he shuddered under the cold. 

“Looks like the usual port settings, I’d like to get some more in depth readings later, but you need some supper.”  For now she did just a basic health scan, noting the common commercial software. The port was very basic, as well, missing the usual magnet that snapped the data reader into place.  The scan only confirmed what she expected; exhaustion and the need for a good meal.

“What’s the verdict, Doctor?” Morrison asked, and she took a few notes.  

Moon sat quietly, slouched, apparently used to the ordeal.  He resembled a wet and irritated cat.

“Well, you’re dehydrated, horribly underweight, your eyes are in poor shape and you need rest.”  Angela made a few more notes. “You’re ready for supper, Moon. Make sure you drink this, I’m worried.”  She put a bottle of coconut water in front of him, and he looked at it. “Hang on a second.” She went through her drawers, muttering until she found something.  “Here, these should do.” Angela held out some novelty tennis socks Lena had bought her some time ago and some lotion, and she put a squirt on his hands. “I can do a basic skin graft once you’re ready, and I might be able to do something for the pain.”

He quickly lotioned his hands and pulled the socks on with his teeth in a practiced motion.  “They don’t hurt,” he muttered, and almost leapt off the table when she put a gentle hand to the side of his face.

“Don’t worry, Moon, I’ll take care of you.”  

He blushed and looked down, and she opened the coconut water and put it in his hands.  He took a long drink and pressed the sports lid down, and she looked to Morrison. 

“He needs rest, now, and some supper.  In the morning Winston and I will check his eyes, and get a complete reading on his dataport.”

Morrison chained them together again, but left Moon’s ankles free.  “C’mon, kid, we got you a room.” Moon followed passively, clutching his water bottle, and Morrison was grateful the others kept the hall clear.  

Moon’s cell had an airlock and a double door, and only one could be opened at a time.  Morrison uncuffed him and locked him in. The holding cell was a simple room with a built in shelf for a bed, a toilet with a sink in the cistern and a simple table.  A hairbrush and basic toiletries sat on a shelf above the table. 

Morrison removed his cuffs and Moon stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as Morrison entered the airlock.  He closed it, waited a few moments, and pressed the intercom button. “Dinner will be here in about twenty minutes.”  

Moon lay down and instantly seemed to fall asleep, and Morrison watched him through the window for a few moments to make sure he was still breathing.


	4. No One Ever Wants to Get Naked In Front of a Monkey and a Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison threatens a teenager with an MRI.

Moon’s nap was short yet restful, oddly enough.  

“Rise and shine, love, dinner’s here!” Lena cheered as she opened the inside door.  “Come on, nice and hot! Eat up!” 

“How?” he snapped, and Lena put the plate on the table.

“Don’t worry, ducky, Winston’s cleared your hands.  But you still don’t get your claws or your guns back.  We charged them up and everything! C’mon, need help?” Lena asked as she held them out.  

Moon’s face lit up as he took the gloves.  The armbands were missing, but Moon knew they weren’t necessary.  “No, I got it.” Moon pulled the socks off his hands, keeping them hidden as best he could.  He carefully held the cuff with his teeth and feed his hands in. The teen shoved his hands against his thighs to get them snug, then held the inside of his wrists together and rotated, locking the bands and activating them.  Moon rippled his fingers, rotated his wrists, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said softly. He made a gesture, palms towards him and pushing his hands away while opening his fingers, and his lips twitched.

“Yeah, he deactivated everything but basic hand use,” she said in a cheerful tone.  “Enjoy your supper, it’s Mexican night! Jesse made rose rice, beef soup and tamales!”

“What’s a tamale?” Moon muttered as Lena gestured to the plate.  He hissed something to himself and eyed Lena, then the food. “Why’s it all red?  Can I get some chopsticks? I don’t like eating with forks and stuff.”

“I’ll be back in a flash, love.  This is rose rice, Jesse’s specialty!”

True to Lena’s word she was back in under a minute with a pair of wooden chopsticks.  She knew the Shimada brothers wouldn’t mind. “Come on, duck, eat up! It’s only getting colder!”

 

\---

 

“Is he still eating?” Lena asked as she skid into the room.  “He was so happy to get his hands back!” She glanced at the monitor, and Moon was dissecting his tamale, eating it piece by piece.

“Gee,” Jesse snapped around his cigarello, “I wonder why.  You shouldn’t have denied him his hands, Morrison! It’s against policy and it’s damn cruel!”

“He can’t be trusted with the multiple technologies in them, McCree.  No smoking inside!” Morrison snapped. The use of their last names told each other the other was upset.  Both knew it was cruel to deny someone prosthetics, and both knew it had to be done.

“You gonna take it away from me?” he drawled, and held out his cigarillo in his left hand, his prosthetic hand.

“They were a security risk, but Winston fixed that,” Morrison explained patiently.  He didn’t blame Jesse for being upset. “Now extinguish it.” 

When Jesse put it back in his mouth Morrison snatched it away, ground it on the table and flicked it in the trash.  He ignored Jesse fishing it out and muttering he still had five minutes left on it. Morrison then pressed a button on his communicator.  “Winston, anything on his teleporting yet?”

“Well, no.  The tech in his suit and gloves modified it, but I think the ability rests inside of him.  He teleported once I had him on the floor, without the suit. The suit seems to be a, well, without getting technical, a focusing tool.”  

Morrison hummed in thought.  

“Angela thinks his spine, here, here she is.”

“Jack?” Angel’s voice said over the line, “I think his spine has been replaced.  The scars are surgical, methodical, and his back just looks odd. I think the technology is inside of him, I think his spine is modified.”

“Who would do something like that?” Morrison mused.  “Ready the MRI.”

“I will not put him in an MRI!” Angela snapped.

Jack knew that MRIs were dangerous to many people with cybernetic ports and prosthetics.   “But he might not know that. We need answers, and quickly, before M16, Hound or Talon finds him.”

 

\---

 

“I’m not happy with this idea.”  Moon was standing with his hands cuffed behind his back, staring at the MRI.  Dinner was now sitting heavy in his nervous gut. “This is not a good idea.”

“Oh, it won’t take long!” Winston said in an encouraging tone.  “Do you have any of the following?” Winston held out a page and Moon stared at it, stared at the chain leading his cuffed hands to Jess, then the paper, then to Winston.  “Right, I’ll just read it off for you. Pacemaker, pregnancy, claustrophobia, history of kidney problems, skin tattoos, neurostimulators like a TENS-unit, implanted drug infusion device, i.e., insulin pump, exposure of metal fragments to your eye, artificial heart valves, aneurysm clips, cochlear implants, metallic implants and prosthesis, vascular stent or stent graft, history as a metal worker, shrapnel or bullet wounds, dorsal column stimulators, allergy to iodine, or gadolinium, history of diabetes, or any other conditions you believe to be relevant?”

“Um, no?”  

Winston adjusted his glasses at Moon’s delayed answer.  “This is very important, Moon. Do you have a pacemaker?”  

Moon answered no to each item Winston listed again, and Winston sighed at him once he denied ‘metallic implants and prosthesis.’  

“Prosthesis.  Do you have any?”  

Moon shook his head again and Winston motioned to a gown on the table.  

“Just change into the gown and take a seat, it will be over soon.”

“I’m not happy with this idea,” Moon repeated.  “I am not getting naked in front of a monkey and a cowboy!”

“Gorilla,” Winston said darkly.  

“I don’t care!  I’m not getting naked!  You guys already took my normal clothes, what more do you want from me?” Moon demanded.

“These clothes, please, you’ll have the dressing gown.  Jesse, the cuffs?” Winston asked.

“Now kid,” Jesse said as he held up the key, “if I unlock these cuffs you gonna teleport away?”  Jesse shook the chain that connected Moon’s cuffs to his right wrist.

“YES.”  Jesse crossed his arms and stared at him, smiling at his honest answer.  “I’m not getting naked! If it can see through a robe, it can see through pants!”

Jesse unsnapped his cuff and gripped the chain.  “C’mon, kid, robe time.”

“No.”  Moon backed into the door and managed to press the button to open it.  “I’m going back to my cell!” he snapped as he started to walk away. 

Jesse gripped the chain and started to haul him back in.  

“Let go!  I’m not taking off my pants!”

“Kid, we all got things to do,” Jesse snapped, and Moon suddenly snapped a kick into Jesse’s neck.  Jesse let go, gasping for breath more out of reflex than pain, and Moon ducked down the hall. “Kid!”  Moon turned a corner and kept going. “I swear to god, was I ever this annoying?”

“I’m certain I’ve heard that you were,” Winston said as he picked up his datapad to put the halls on lockdown.  “Jack’s near him, he’ll pick him up.”

It wasn’t far to his cell, just down the hall and around the corner.  Moon groaned out in discomfort as his ribs ached, and he put his back to the door to his cell and slid down the wall.  He was there for several moments before Morrison trod over and looked down at him. 

“Get up.”  

“No!” Moon groaned in agitation then in pain and curled up on himself as best he could with his hands behind his back.  “I’m just gonna get back into my cell.”

Morrison sighed down at him.  “No. You’re getting scanned.”  He hauled Moon up by his right side and dragged him back down the hall, mindful of his ribs.  At least he didn’t have to carry him this time. “McCree!” Jesse sighed and shook his head. “If you can’t deal with a sixteen year old boy I’ll get someone else.”

“He wants me to get naked!” Moon snapped.  “My ribs hurt. I’m tired.” He slouched, and if Morrison weren’t gripping his armpit would have melted into the ground.  “I’m cold and I’m tired.” 

Morrison hauled him back to his feet and into the MRI room.  

“I want to go back to my cell.”  Moon resisted every step of the way.  “I don’t wanna get naked in front of a cowboy and a gorilla.”

Morrison sighed, wishing to nip Jesse McCree 2.0 in the bud.  “Winston, I want him scanned. Now.” Well, Genji had been McCree 2.0, so Moon could be 3.0.

“If I tell you how I teleport,” Moon mumbled, “can I keep my clothes on?”

“Too late.  Strip. You can keep your tighty whities.”  Morrison’s gravely voice was firm.

“Oh, c’mon!  I’m not getting naked in front of a gorilla!” Moon wailed.  “It’s not a teleport, it’s a tesser, OK? I don’t know HOW I do it, but the tech in my suit make it easier.”

Morrison gave him a tug to keep him standing and Jesse held out the dressing gown.  “The tech is inside your body? So you’re saying you can teleport at any time, even without the suit?”

“Kinda?”  Moon looked over to Winston.  “Don’t me me strip in front of the gorilla.”

“He has a name.  It’s Winston. You know, boss,” Jesse said slowly, “the second you let go he’s bolting again.”

“Not if you keep a hold of him,” Winston said with a nod.  “He said tessers. He can’t do it if we keep him tethered. In theory.”  It took everything Winston had not to explain the difference between teleporting and tessering.

“Jesse, the cuffs.  I’ll hold him.”

“All right, but don’t say I never warned you.”  Jesse undid the cuffs and Moon brought his hands in front of him, adjusting his gloves as best he could with Morrison clinging to his upper arm.  Everyone stood quietly, waiting, and Moon was suddenly gone and Morrison fell towards the door. Jesse gave a loud laugh. “Told’ja.”

“Well, now, that’s an interesting development,” Winston mused as he took a few notes.  

“I’ll get him!” Morrison snapped, and there was a heavy thud in the hall.

“That’s for shooting me!” Lena snapped as she stood over a groaning teen.  “I think we’re even now!” She had tripped him, and then gripped his leg and started to haul him back down the hall.  “Keep better tabs on your prisoners!” 

Jesse sighed and helped him up.

Moon quietly stripped and Jesse looked away as he held a sheet in front of him.  Still, he could see the scars on his back and he grimaced. Moon was who Overwatch was made to protect, those who were too young to protect themselves.  

Once Moon was changed Jesse held his hand out.  “I’ll take good care of your hands, don’t you worry none.”  He held his left arm out so Moon could balance himself onto the MRI table, and carefully pulled his hands off and handed them over.  He lay down and the table started to slide into the imaging tube.


	5. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon gets scared into giving more information. Our heroes, everybody! Jesse and Genji go straight for the bribes.

As the shadow of the tube reached his eyes he struggled to sit up.  “My eyes are cybernetic! What’s going to happen to them?” he hissed suddenly.  “What about my hands? Will the connections be OK? She never told me what would happen to my connections.  This is a bad idea. I don’t want to do this!”

“She WHO?” Morrison asked as he leaned over Moon.  When Moon said nothing Morrison gestured for the table to move.  “Moira?” he guessed.

Moon nodded vigorously, and Morrison paused the table.  

“Talk to me, Moon.  Where did you get your enhancements?”

“I, I can’t, they’ll turn them off!” Moon gasped.  “They’ll send me back!” Moon struggled to remain calm.  “Don’t send me back. I don’t want to go back!”

Morrison held up his hand so Winston could see it, twisting his wrist in a ‘power it up’ motion, and the MRI hummed to life.  “If you’re worried about them tracking you through your implants, the MRI will block any communications. I’m going to make you a deal,” Morrison said quietly as he leaned closer.  “We won’t take your hands, we won’t turn off your eyes, and we won’t send you back to Hound. But I need to know, where did you get your teleport abilities?” 

Moon was silent.  

Morrison pitched his acidic voice a little lower.  “M16 knows you exist, and I can only keep them off your tail for about another hour,” he bluffed.  “After that, there’s no telling what’s going to happen to you. So talk to me, Moon. Where did you get the teleport technology.” 

“Moira,” he said quietly, “and Naomi.  They, they did something to me. The chair.  The tube. Don’t put me in the tube. I don’t wanna go in the tube.  I don’t wanna go in the tube.”

“What happened to your hands?  How did you get like this?”

“I, um, I screwed up.  I needed, they, he,” Moon said, panic in his voice, but he swallowed it.  “I was blind. I couldn’t follow orders. So they took me to the, to the lab, and he did that.”

“What lab?  Where?”

“They were making Amp.”  

Morrison kept himself from flinching.  Amp, a synthetic drug, was made from several caustic chemicals, and it was a highly toxic and dangerous process.  

“They, and, and he,” Moon stuttered.  “I screwed up. And he washed me. And, um, my eyes.  Amp drops.”

Morrison inhaled quietly.  Pure, unfiltered Amp to the eyes would have the desired effect of blinding someone, and the chemical burns from submersion could warrant amputation of small fingers.  “And how did you get into Moira’s hands?” 

Moon closed his eyes and turned his head.  

“Moon, how?”

“Someone broke in, as Song Jin was washing me.  Put me in the chemical shower.” 

Morrison listened, emotionless.  

“Took all of us, left the crew.  I think they’re dead. They never said, just that, that, you see, they took us away.”  Moon took a breath. “Talon. I think Talon gave us to Hound.”

“How many ended up with Hound?”

“Most of us, Wang Xiu, and Li Qiang at least.”

“What happened to them?  Wang and Li?”

“They, they didn’t make it.  The teleport.” 

Leave it to Hound to use children as test subjects.  It wasn’t Moira’s way, though, which was odd. She had her ethics, few as they could be, and children were not good test subjects.  

“I was the only one, um, survivor.  I, um, don’t know entirely how it works.”  Moon was shaking and Morrison knew the interrogation was over for now.

“You did good, Moon.  Get some rest.” 

Moon stayed still for a while after the table pulled completely out of the tube, and Morrison had to help him stand up.  

He didn’t have it in him to tell the kid the MRI was never activated, nor did Winston have any desire to do so.

 

\---

 

August 04, 2080, Sunday Evening

“Moon could have been from a few different places, Han thinks the Laus, though, in Héchuáng.  They made Amp, did human trafficking, were known for blinding their ‘employees.’ All six of their buildings were hit seven years ago and burned to the ground.  No survivors,” Jesse said in disgust as he slid the tablet over. 

Hanzo had quickly discerned this from the few details they had, having both led the Shimada yakuza as kumicho and later hunted them.  He knew the criminal world of China and Japan well.

Seven years.  Moon had to have been nine or ten, if his age was to be believed.  “Sounds likely.”

“What are you gonna do with Moon, Commander?  If M16 hears Hound has a teleporter, an honest to god teleporter, they’re gonna want him.  Kid can do it without the suit. You can’t just hand him over like that. Moira’s involved.  The science police will tear him apart trying to replicate it. They’ll do worse trying to find out whoever this Naomi is.”

“I know, Jess.  He’s got valuable technology and we need Winston to reverse engineer it.  We need to know how to stop Talon if they figured it out.”

Jesse was surprised.  “What makes you think they didn’t?”

“Look at him, Jesse.  He’s a kid. He’s expendable.  They put him in a flashy suit and gave him weapons he can’t use.  Athena said he was broadcasting, she caught him when the chameleon suit fried.  Winston turned that off, though, when he deactivated the suit.”

“So he’s a spy.  Does he know?”

“Doubtful.  Either that or he’s the best liar since I met you.”  

Jesse laughed.  

“We need to learn how he teleports before M16 finds out about him.”

Jesse smirked as he thought of the surveillance footage.  “Well, the only way to do that is to get his ribs fixed and let him run an obstacle course.  Until then, we could work on his marksmanship. Kid’s a shit shot.”

“He’s not a recruit, McCree.  He’s information.” Morrison checked a notice on his tablet, an alert about M16.  ‘And he’s running to of time,’ he thought to himself.

 

\---

 

August 05, 2080, Early Monday Morning

The next morning Moon was, once more, handcuffed to a chair and waiting interrogation.  Angela had brought him a breakfast and he ate quickly, as if she would take it from him.  She had brought a portable medical reader with her and was accessing his port as he ate. Once his breakfast and scan were done she changed places with Morrison.

Jesse and Lena watched from the observation room as Morrison sat down across from him and pulled out the file.  

He sat quietly, reading.  “So, Moon.” Moon ignored him.  “Tell me something.” 

Moon lookup up briefly before focusing on a spot on the wall.  

“Did you know you were broadcasting what you were seeing?”  

Moon shook his head.  

“Well, Winston turned it all off.  No more spying for you. He’s working on some new eyes for you, he and Dr. Ziegler.  It may take a bit, though, you can’t rush some things.” 

Moon shrugged.  

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?”

“Oh, no,” Jesse groaned from the other side of the mirror.  “Not this.”

“Not what?” Lena asked.

Moon remained sullen and quiet.  

“No?  Well, let me tell you a little bit about myself.  I grew up in Bloomington.”

“Now, Bloomington is a very small town,” Jesse said along with Morrison.  “Everyone knows everybody there. Not much to do, it’s mainly corn, but we made good with what we had.”  

Lena giggled despite the serious tone of the room.  

“He had no toys, made do, and when Old Man Wilson’s roof lost a shingle it was the greatest day of his life.  The man is boring, Lena. Jack is a boring man. He does this to drive them crazy, make them want to talk just to shut.  Him. Up.”

“How long did you last?” Lena asked as Moon groaned and sunk his head.

Jesse shook his head.  “Most of an hour.” Lena huffed at him.  She knew Jesse was capable of surviving torture for longer.  “Look, there are some things a man just shouldn’t have to go through.”  They listened for a bit and Jesse nodded. “Here, he’s gonna give him a chance.”

“And that was the best day of my life.  We threw that shingle like a sports disc for an hour before we got caught.  You ever have a favorite toy growing up?” 

Moon said nothing and Jesse shook his head.

Jesse sighed softly.  “Here comes the fishing story.”

“What’s he trying to get out of the poor thing?” Lena wondered.

“Anything, really.  Any little detail he can drag out of the poor kid.”  

Lena watched in morbid fascination as Moon slowly melted under Morrison’ monotone, Jesse chanting along with him.

“Best salmon I ever caught,” Morrison and Jesse finished.

“I hate salmon,” Moon spat out.  

“And why’s that?” Morrison asked.  

Moon was quiet.  

“I always like a nice grilled salmon with garlic butter.”

“Sounds disgusting,” Moon muttered.

“See, people will do anything to escape this conversation,” Jesse pointed out.  “Now we’re going to learn a little something. Might be good, might not, who knows?  There’s always the baseball game.”

Morrison tapped his folder against the table.  “Why’s that?”

Moon was quiet for a while, but Morrison continued to tap his folder.  “It’s the texture,” Moon finally admitted, mainly to get the tapping to stop.  “I don’t like it.”

“Well, there must be something you like,” Morrison asked.  “Shrimp? Lobster? Clams?”

“Just, you know, stuff.”

“If you don’t like salmon, maybe trout?”

Moon was quiet for a while.  “Grapes.” 

Morrison gave a curious sound.  

“It’s, it’s just, grapes.  Sometimes, if we were good, Moira would give us grapes or something.”

Morrison tapped the file a few more times.  “How about a caramel apple?” he asked.

“Never had one.”

“Well, that seems a shame.”

Moon’s face snapped up and he glared.  “I grew up in a drug house, goat. I don’t even know what that is.”  

Jesse snorted a laugh at Morrison’s expense and Moon’s sudden surge of emotion.  

“I know what you’re doing.  Reaper told me you would. After this you’ll start talking about baseball and that goal you never got to get.”

‘Reaper, huh?’ Morrison thought to himself, quiet for a moment.  “Home run,” he said quietly. “And why do you think I’m doing this?”

“You want information.  I don’t have any.” Moon sounded tired.  

Morrison leaned forward, fingers laced together over the folder.  “Can you prove that?”

“Whenever we weren’t testing the suits they turned off my eyes.  Everything was underground. There were no windows! Couldn’t hear when it rained or anything.  I don’t think it rained, though.” 

As Morrison hoped, once the kid started talking he didn’t stop easily.  Part of him felt bad for utilizing his loneliness, but he needed information.  

“Any other trivia?” Morrison asked.

“The elevator stank.  It was just so damp all the time!  They made us learn English since they didn't want to learn Chinese or anything.  

“Did they speak any other languages?” Morrison asked.

‘I dunno.  They spoke something.  Didn’t know it.”

“Could you recognise it if you heard it again?”  Morrison watch Moon shrug. “What was your plan last night?  Breaking in?”

Moon was quiet for a bit, and Morrison continued to tap the files.  “If I, if I just got in, got something, and got out, I’d prove the suits worked.  I’d be given a real job, they’d quit turning my eyes off, they’d let me keep the hands!”

“Why grab my visor?  You know you couldn’t escape with it.”

“He said it would make you mad.  And he gave me the boots. Said I could keep them if I could grab it.  Reaper. Your visor.” Moon looked up at him. “See? I don’t have any information.”

“There was some good information in there,” Lena admitted.

Morrison stood and uncuffed Moon, then hauled him up.  “You look tired. Why don’t we take a break.” 

Moon let himself be led back to his cell.

 

\---

 

August 05, 2080, Midday Monday

“So, that’s him?” Genji asked.  He and Hanzo had just returned from escorting an ambassader through hostile teritory.  “He’s so tiny. You’re feeding him, right?” He and Jesse were watching the security feed of the medical wing.  

Moon was sitting on the edge of the medical table, knees to his chin, fiddling with a Rubix cube.  Winston and Angela were accessing his dataport, curious about some anomalies found in his medical information.  It was taking quite some time and the teen was obviously losing steam.

“Being a child slave does that to people,” Jesse mused.  “He likes my rose rice.” Jesse looked over at Genji, a little smug.  “Was upset when we told him it’s Lena’s beef stew for supper tonight. Said he wanted more of Jesse’s delicious rose rice.”

“Oh, he did not.”  Genji fumed a bit. If Hanzo were here, he wouldn’t have risen to Jesse’s bait.  “Is that a challenge?” Genji asked, rising on his toes to meet Jesse eye-to-eye. “Want to wager something on it?  Say, a nice bottle of sake?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jesse grinned.  “And you know how I like my whiskey.”

 

\---

 

August 05, 2080, Monday, After Supper

“Howdy, kid,” Jesse said as he slipped into Moon’s cell after supper, small bag in hand.  “Hey, look here, I brought you some sopapillas.” 

His day had been pretty boring under after supper.  Moon had fiddled with some puzzles, declining the books Winston gave him to read, and answered questions as vaguely and sullenly as possible.  He could smell the warm treats in the bag Jesse was shaking at him, though, and he was curious. Moon sat up and peeked into the bag. 

“So, here’s the deal,” Jesse said as he offered him a pair of chopsticks.  Jesse was impressed the kid could still use them with such severe injuries to his hands.  “Here, try one, first.”

Moon pulled a sopapilla out and sniffed it, then bit it.  His eyes lit up and he took a second bite. 

“You like those, huh?”  

Moon nodded eagerly and shoved the rest of it in his mouth.  

“Good, so, Genji and I are gonna cook tomorrow, and he’s gonna try and tell you his rice is better.  He’s the green ninja guy, got a bad case of sassmouth. You tell him you like my rose rice, little buddy, and I’ll see you get all the sopapillas you want, got that?  Six a night.”

“What’s this got to do with teleporting and interrogation and everything?” Moon asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Nothing, this is between Genji and me.  He thinks since he’s Japanese he’s got a lock on how to make rice tasty, but I been makin’ it my entire life, so I think I know what I’m talkin’ about.”  Jesse reached into the bag and pulled out a little cup of honey and an apple juice box. “Here, dip it in this.” 

Moon dipped the next one and kept eating, nodding.  

“And we made a bet that if you like mine better, I get some whiskey.  So you got my back?”

“I can do that.  But, what if he already came by?”  Moon reached under the pillow and pulled out a small box of six milk chocolate coated butter cookies, the type Angela bought for snacks.  He had eaten three of them.

Jesse scoffed.  “Well, Genji didn’t care enough to actually make your bribe, did he, kid?”  Jesse grinned. “I mean, yeah, stealing Angela’s cookies is dangerous, but, you know?  I put care and love and sugar into each and every bite.” 

Moon nodded and him and bit into another sopapilla.  

“You got my back, kid?”  

“These are a lot better.”  Moon nodded and Jesse stabbed the straw into the apple juice juice box for him.

Jesse reached out and rubbed his head, and Moon was startled at the affection.  “Good kid! Now I gotta get before he suspects something. And I’ll bring you some more sopapillas tomorrow, got it?  Now finish up, I gotta take the trash with me.”

Moon nodded at him and Jesse gave him a wink and a thumbs up as he left.


	6. Settling Into a New Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new interrogation technique is formed. It's called, "Don't Scare the Teenager, It Isn't Working, Jack." They learn a lot more using it.

August 06, 2080, Early Tuesday Morning

Morrison knocked before entering the cell, and Moon stood up.  “Got a lot on our plate today,” he said and Moon put his hairbrush down.  He had been given his hair ties back and was carefully tying off his braids.  Most of them were now unraveled a few inches, but he didn’t seem to care and tied them off where they were.

“Is that good?” Moon asked carefully.  He followed slowly, ready to bolt. He grimaced when Morrison held out the cuff, but he held out his wrist and let himself be cuffed to Morrison’s right arm.

“Well, Winston and Angela want to get you some more scans.  Non MRI, of course. You know what a CT scan is?” Morrison asked as he led Moon down the hall.

Moon’s face became passive and his voice dull as he recited from memory.  “The computed tomography scan is a a diagnostic medical test that, like traditional x-rays, produces multiple images or pictures of the inside of the body.  The cross-sectional images a CT scan creates can be reformatted in multiple planes and formats and can even generate three-dimensional images. The images of internal organs, bones, soft tissue and blood vessels provide greater detail than traditional x-rays.”  Moon looked up to him.

Morrison got the impression the teen was looking for validation or positive response, so Morrison nodded at him.  “Well done.”

This pleased Moon.  “I know the rest of the program.  It played whenever they turned on the machine.”

“Impressive.  But do you know what it means?”

“Pretty much.  It’s an x-ray that takes multiple x-rays and puts them together.”  Moon laced his fingers together, holding them vertically.

“You’re pretty observant, Moon,” Morrison said.  “You get CT scans a lot?”

“Well, you can’t MRI someone with implants, can you?” Moon asked bitterly as Morrison opened the door to the lab.  

“OK, we’re here.  Let’s get this bitch of a situation started.”  Morrison clapped Moon’s shoulder and gestured to the neatly folded robe on the table.

Moon quietly got dressed in the robe behind the screen and Morrison thought it was strange just how complacent he was after last night.  He lay quietly for his CT scan and ultrasound, and when they were over he sat on the table, quiet and still.

Morrison stood by him, then sat by him on the table.  “Kid? You OK?”

Moon didn’t say anything, but he gripped at his robe with damaged hands.  

Morrison put a hand in the center of Moon’s back.  “Let’s get you dressed and down the breakfast. You like oatmeal?”  

Moon nodded quietly.  

“What’s wrong, kid?  Talk to me.”

Moon didn’t say anything at first, and Morrison waited.  “I didn’t think it would work for you.”

“Didn’t think what would work for me?”  Morrison was genuinely confused, even if his glass-gargling voice didn’t sound it.  “Moon, what’s wrong? You haven’t tried to escape yet.”

“It’s not the tube, at least,” he said quietly, and grabbed his clothes.  He didn’t bother with the screen as he got dressed, and he didn’t object when Angela pulled him to the side.

“Jack?” Winston asked as he walked over.  “What happened?”

Morrison narrowed his eyes under his flickering visor.  “I don’t get it. I told him we were getting started and he just froze like that.”

“What exactly did you say to him?” Winston demanded and shoved his glasses back up his nose.

“I just told him it was time to get the situation started!” Morrison insisted.

Winston paused.  “Isn’t that what they used to say in SEP?” he asked, and Morrison nodded.  

“They used to joke that it would get us pumped up.”  Morrison paused in thought. “Do think?” he asked quietly, thinking.

“They’ve programmed him,” Winston finished.  

Several of the SEP soldiers had been conditioned to several phrases with a variety of success.  Most of the information had been scrubbed, and that meant someone who was working on SEP was had worked with Moon.

“They conditioned him to be quiet to a key phrase.  And you know as Moira says,” Winston said quietly, “a calm subject is a safe subject.”  The gorilla shook his head as Morrison pulled his visor off and put it back on. “Let me fix that for you!  I can’t imagine the migraine you’re getting from it!”

“It’s fine,” Morrison sighed back.  It was giving him a worse headache than usual but he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.  “What do we do with the kid?”

“Well, first, I think an apology is in order.  Let’s go see him.” Winston turned and walked to Moon and Angela.

They were sitting quietly, and Angela was comforting him.  One hand was on Moon’s shoulder and she was speaking with a soft, gentle tone.  “And here they are. Gentlemen, what have you got to say for yourself?” she asked quietly.

“We won’t be telling him you that again, Moon,” Winston said.  “We had no idea she had conditioned you, but we should have guessed.”

Morrison tapped his chin in thought.  “Can you think of any other triggers we should avoid?”  

“A couple,” Moon admitted quietly.  He was still shaking off the ‘situation’ command.  He split his time glaring at Morrison and the floor.  “One.” He shifted his shoulders and hips uncomfortably.  

“You don’t want us to know it, because you’re concerned we’ll use it?” Morrison guessed, and Moon huffed and glared at the floor.  “Is it a common thing?”

“I, no, it’s, no.”  Moon fidgeted and wrapped his arms around himself.  “It’s not common at all.”

“Situation isn’t common, either,” Morrison noted.  “Did this Naomi say it?”

Winston had combed what he had of the records last night, but couldn’t find any Naomi.

Moon continued to sulk.  “Can I go back to my cell now?” he asked quietly.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?  Some exercise might help clear your head!” Angela offered.  When Moon didn’t respond she gave his shoulders a squeeze.

“I’m a prisoner, right?” he asked bitterly.

“Why don’t all of you go play in the gym?  Maybe Capture the Flag?” Angela offered. “It’s been a while since your last cardio, Winston.”

“Maybe Jack could take him on a run,” Winston offery quickly.

“Maybe I might die trying to keep up,” Moon snapped.  “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s kinda tall.”

“Don’t get sassy,” Morrison snapped back.  

“Yes sir.”  Moon quickly shrunk down and pulled into Angela, and Morrison pulled back as well.

“Moon,” he said softly.  “I won’t hit you. I promise.  No one will hit you here.”

Angela gave him a quick squeeze, and Moon leaned into her.

“Now, c’mon, let’s get some breakfast into you and get some exercise.”  Morrison gestured to the door and Angela gave Moon a gentle shove. “If we don’t cuff you are you going to try and escape?” he asked.

“Yes,” Moon snapped quickly.

Morrison sighed and pulled out the cuffs, and Moon pulled back.

“Oh, c’mon!” he whined, and Morrison held one cuff out.  “It’s not fair! Why do I have to be cuffed?”

“Because you’re a prisoner who’s trying to escape,” Morrison said in what he hoped was a patient tone.  He continued to hold the cuff out and Moon finally held out his hand. Morrison snapped it on, clipped the other cuff to his left wrist and nodded.  “Let’s get you some breakfast.” Morrison started to walk and felt a gentle tug. “Coming?”

Moon grumbled and twitched his cheek.  “Yes,” he finally spat out. He walked beside Morrison, occasionally taking a few jogging steps to keep up.

When they got to the kitchen Moon paused, and Morrison looked at him.  “What?”

“Kitchen?” Moon asked quietly, and Morrison nodded.  “We can use the kitchen?”

“Where else do you eat?”  Morrison wondered how food insecure the kid was.

“In the cafeteria,” Moon said in the same careful tone.  He stepped into the kitchen warily and looked to Morrison as if for approval.

The kitchen was large and open, with a door leading outside on the other wall.  To the right was a long counter with a sink and a stove. The right wall was the doors to the walk in cooler and the pantry.  In the middle of the room sat a large u-shaped island for eating, and on the far wall another counter with a second oven and sink.  The left wall was mostly windows and low shelf storage for utensils and dishes.

“Well, take a seat,” Morrison said in an offhand voice.  Once Moon sat down he clipped Moon’s cuff to a brace under the table.  He put a glass of water in front of the teen and turned to the stove behind Moon.  “How do you like your oatmeal?”

“How do I like it?” Moon asked, suspicion in his tone.

“Yeah, what do you want in it?”  Morrison easily started cooking. “Chia, banana, we’ve got some strawberries,” he said.  When Moon was silent he paused and turned around. “You eat oatmeal, right?”

“I guess?”  Moon turned as best he could on the seat and looked at him.

“What do you normally eat?  Where you’re from?”

Moon shrugged.  “Rice, mainly. Potatoes.  You know, food. Sometimes we get, like, pork, or something, if you’re doing tests.”

“Tests?”  Morrison decided Moon looked like he would enjoy strawberry and banana oatmeal.

“Yeah.”  Moon shrugged again.  “Tests.”

Morrison quietly made the oatmeal and fried up some bacon.  He put the food in front of Moon, and sat down across from him at the table.

Moon still seemed suspicious, and Morrison picked up his spoon.

“C’mon, before it gets cold.”  Morrison had eaten breakfast earlier, but he could use a snack.  He still required quite a lot of protein and calories.

Moon picked up his spoon and held it in a firm grip like a child, and Morrison resolved to ask Winston about new fingers for him.  Moon sniffed, took a nibble, and quickly started to devour his food.

“Not so fast, you’ll make yourself ill.”

Moon slowed down, chewing, and matched Morrison’s pace.  Once his bowl was empty he quickly scraped it clean and started on his bacon.

“So, what’s your day normally like?” Morrison asked.  A casual interrogation might work better than a formal one.

“It’s a day, I suppose.”  Moon ate his bacon in a few snaps and drained his water.  

“Yeah, but what do you DO?”

“I guess, usually it’s packing drugs.”  Moon eagerly accepted another bowl of oatmeal.  “It’s really easy, I can do it blind. You just put the bag on the scale, press the button to print the sticker, put the bag in the box, seal it, slap the sticker on.”  He eagerly fished out and ate the banana slices. “I like these.”

“Those are bananas.  What type of drugs?”

Moon shrugged with an unconcerned noise.  “Dunno. I think some of it was, like, clothes and stuff.”  He finished his second bowl of oatmeal and sat there, waiting.

“You done?” Morrison asked, and Moon nodded at him.  “C’mon, bowl in the dishwasher.”

They rinsed and put their bowls away and Moon lingered for a few moments, staring at the door leading outside.

“If you want to go for a run later, you’ll need real shoes.”

“Can I have my boots back?” Moon asked quietly, pulling backwards.  “I mean, I did grab your visor and everything. He said I could have them and keep them if I grabbed it.”

Morrison’s visor flickered a little, and he nodded.  “Yeah, let’s get your boots and go for a walk.”

 

\---

 

Genji thought Moon was about the most irritating, and amusing, person to walk with.  Morrison had pawned the teen off on Genji, claiming he had some field research, and Genji had shrugged, took the chain, and led him outside.

“What’s this one called?” Moon asked as he scooped up another seashell.  Moon had been examining almost everything, and Genji tried to keep in mind he had been blind and captive for most of his life.  “It looks like the fan leaf but it’s a new color!”

“Oh, that ones a ginko fan,” the cyborg lied easily.  “It’s not as rare.” Genji knew little about seashells, but making up names for them was easy.

Moon nodded and put it back down, and dashed up to a tidepool.  “What’s in this one?” This was the eighth tidepool he wanted to investigate that morning!

Genji decided he was done getting sand in his joints and gripped Moon by the shoulders.  “Careful, that one smells poisonous! We better get back to high ground! C’mon, off the beach.”  It was more a strip of sand than a real beach, but some days those on The Rock would gather to swim and wade in the surf.

Moon nodded enthusiastically and let himself be led back to the interior of the island.  He had yet to realize Genji was making things up as they went along, and Genji felt a little bad for that.

Genji was supposed to be questioning him for details, but he didn’t really want to after seeing Moon’s eyes go wide after seeing the vines on the side of the steep cliff wall.  He kept touching everything with the backs of his hands, elated to find new things. Genji also didn’t have it in him to keep him chained up, and he was confident in his ability to catch a clumsy, tiny teenager on an island.  His shining white hair was easy to track in the sunlight.

Right now Moon had decided the best way to get off of the beach was to try and scale a sheer stone, and Genji shook his head.  He put his hands under Moon’s foot and boosted him, then scaled the rock himself.

“The others’d be jealous,” Moon hissed as he dashed to the only true green spot on The Rock.  There were scattered vines and scrub across the rocky island, but The Green Spot was special.

Several pine trees and wild azaleas filled a small plateau, and a thick moss carpeted the ground.  Mei was quite interested in the growth, and she and Hanzo worked to keep an ecological balance.

“The other who?” Genji asked as Moon pulled his gloves off again and ran the back of his hands over the moss.

“The others moons.”

“Wait, what?”  Genji stopped walking and looked at him.  “What moons?”

“You know, the others.  Mike, Hotel, Golf, the others.”  Moon pulled down a pine branch to take a deep sniff.  “The Moons.” He pulled his gloves off to feel the branch.

Genji blinked under his mask.  “You’re one of a set? Dang it, now we gotta collect you all.”

Moon nodded and ran his hands through the azaleas.

“How many of you are there?”

Moon shrugged.  “Um, up to Uniform.”

“Twenty-one,” Genji said softly after chanting the English alphabet in his head.  

Moon popped his head up.  “What?”

“Nothing, Genji said quickly.  “So, are you clones?”

“No,” Moon answered.  “We’re Moons. We don’t do clones.  We do tests.”

“You like touching things?” Genji asked and handed Moon a smooth rock.  “Here, touch this.” He watched as Moon rubbed the rock on his hand. He thought the kid was weird, but he wasn’t horrible.

“Eh, it’s OK.  I like stuff that feel like stuff.”  Moon went back to brushing the back of his hands on the moss.

“What makes you a Moon?”

“You’re put into the Moon group.  You get put in the Solars, you’re a Solar.  Duh.”

Getting Moon to talk was aggravating.  Genji hadn’t punched a teen ager in a few years and he was hoping to keep it that way.  “Here, try a plant. I think this is a fern.” Genji gestured to a fern and waved Moon over.  “How many groups are there?”

“Oh, I like this one!” Moon grinned as he felt it.  “There’s Moons, and Solars and Stars.” Moon gave the fern a long sniff.  “They don’t smell how they feel.”

“How should they smell?”  Why was the kid weird?

Moon shrugged.  “Like they feel.”

“So, were you called something before Moon Echo?” Genji asked casually.  He watched as Moon nodded and moved on to a pinecone. “Can you share?”

“No.”  Moon rolled the pine cone in his hands.  “Been a while. We weren’t allowed.” He scratched the pine cone on his chin.  “These are weird. I like the touch.” Moon hissed to himself in Mandarin.

“Texture,” Genji said quietly.  “Why do you speak English?”

“Because we’re not allowed to speak Mandarin.”

 _“I’ll speak Mandarin with you.”_  Genji had barely gotten the sentence out when Moon whirled on him, round face in shock.

“We can speak it?” he asked quickly, and Genji nodded.  “I’d like that.”

 _“Then do it.  If you remember any.”_  Genji was not prepared for the teen launching himself into a hug.

 _“I do.  We would speak it at night, but we had to be careful.  Reaper never needs to open doors, he can just BE there.  One night we realized he was just sitting there, listening, and, and,”_ he said, and Genji pet the back of his head.   _“We weren’t allowed.”_

 _“Well, you’re allowed here.  Hanzo speaks it, and Mei, and Master, we’ll speak it with you.  You won’t get in trouble.”_ He pet Moon’s head and shoulders.   _“You want to talk a walk inside, see the rest of the base?”_

_“No, the lights hurt my eyes.”_

_“I know what will fix that.  C’mon, kid, let’s get you some filtered sunglasses.  That should hold until Winston gets your new eyes fixed up.  When I first got my new eyes I needed all sorts of adjustments.”_ Genji gestured him to follow, and Moon complied, putting the pine cone back where he found it and jogging along.


	7. Terms and Mental Conditioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon's been through a lot, and he meets a new friend who scares him without meaning to.

August 06, 2080, Late Tuesday Morning

 

“He’s not secured,” Morrison growled as he entered the lab.

Moon was hooked up to a dataport reader, and Winston had placed a pair of diagnostic goggles over his head.

“It’s not like he’s going anywhere while hooked up, Jack.”  Winston adjusted a dial and narrowed his eyes. “Whoever put these in you did a terrible job, Moon.”

“At least I can see.  But the lights in here hurt my head.”

“Well, that’s because your eyes aren’t adjusting to the wavelength properly.”  Winston made another adjustment. “Once I get the testing done I can begin assembly on your new eyes.”

“So we’ll be testing?” Moon asked, somewhat eager to get back to a normal routine.

“Well, it won’t take long, maus,” Angela said comfortingly.

“Then what am I going to do?” he asked.

Morrison crossed his arms.  “What do you mean?”

“What’s my job?” Moon asked.  “What am I going to do all day?”

“Well, I’ve got a study plan laid out for you, get you caught up.  I can’t imagine schooling was important.” Winston tilted Moon’s head back into position, his large hands warm and gentle.  

“Yeah, but what’s my JOB?” Moon asked, getting irritated.

“You’re a teenager, you don’t get a job,” Winston said and pulled up a screen.  “OK, let’s see, pupillary distance, my, you’re tiny. I’ll have to make up special relays for you.”

“I don’t get it.”  Moon blinked as the lights flashed again.  “No job?”

“You said you packed drugs and other items, right?” Morrison asked, and Moon nodded.  “How many hours did you work?”

“When they made us start then when they made us stop.”  Moon shrugged and Winston adjusted his posture again.

“That’s not normal, maus,” Angela said softly.

“Fèihuà,” Moon muttered.  He instantly snapped his head up, making Winston adjust his posture again.  “Genji said I could speak Mandarin, said it was fine!”

“It’s fine unless you’re being rude,” Morrison sighed.  “Watch the sass mouth.”

“Yes, sir.”  Moon blinked as Winston pulled the calibration device off, and hauled the sunglasses back on.  Genji had taken them from Hanzo’s boat months ago to see if he would notice, and he hadn’t yet.

“This will take a few hours to get started, Moon.”  Winston handed Moon a print out and Moon looked at it.  “That’s a basic overview.”

“OK.”  Moon put the printout down.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Angela asked and Moon shrugged.

“Oh, um, yeah, about that,” Moon said and a slow blush crept over his face.  “I, um, can’t read it.”

Angela assumed he met English.  “I’ll just get the Chinese translation, then.  Mandarin, right?”

“Mandarin,” he said quietly.  “Yes.”

“Kid, can you read?” Morrison asked, and Moon shrugged.

“I grew up blind in a drug house,” Moon snapped.  “Reading wasn’t important.”

Winston pulled him into a hug and Moon struggled briefly, then hugged Winston back.  “C’mon, let’s get you some lunch while your eyes are forming.” He led Moon out the door, arm around him.  “We’ll get you educated, I promise! Oh, we’re going to teach you so much!” Moon glared at Morrison the entire time.

“Let’s work on letting him see first, Winston.”  Angela said softly. “Don’t worry, Mond Maus, it will all be OK.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Morrison mused.

Angela sighed and shook her head.

“I know, I know,” Morrison said.  “I’m his jailer, not his friend.”

Angela took his arm and tugged, leading him to her monitor.  “Jack, I don’t think he’s dangerous.” She tapped a few files and gestured to him, and Morrison leaned down to look at them.  “He’s been through hell, and somehow, and I think Moira did this, he’s still stable and passive. His brain is wired differently.”

Morrison opened the files Angela was gesturing to in his visor.  There were several brain scans, each with different wavy lines on them.  “OK, I see the difference, but I don’t know what it means.”

“Traumatised brains work differently than safe brains, Jack.  And if you see the yellow lines, those are chemical reactions, those yellow lines?”  

Jack finally nodded and Angela continued.

“We think they’re part of mental conditioning.  We had him hooked up this morning and spent it just talking, and Winston got a few details from him.  There’s a command to shut him down completely, but he either doesn’t know it or won’t tell us.”

“I don’t blame him.”  Morrison tapped the side of his visor and ran his fingertip along the surface, skimming the scans and trying to make sense of them.  “She had a few regular commands, didn’t she?”

“We alluded to some and he confirmed that she used a few of them.  We made a list.” Angela sighed. “We have to help him, Jack, and the others.”

“Genji mentioned more children, two other groups.”  Morrison’s chest burned with anger. “I don’t understand, though, that’s not Moira’s way.  Children make terrible test subjects. She wants someone she can control.”

 

\---

 

“So, we’re eating again?”  Moon liked walking with Winston.  He didn’t have long legs like Jesse or Morrison, and he kept a pace Moon could easily keep up with.

Moon’s question made Winston’s heart ache.  “Of course, Moon, it’s lunch time. You get breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea if you want it.  We won’t starve you.” Winston chuckled at Moon’s eagerness. “Yesterday wasn’t a fluke.”

“So we get to keep eating?”  Moon asked eagerly. “So what are we eating today?” 

“Oh, we’ll see what we have when we get there.  I can make us a nice rice pilaf, maybe some stir fry.  Angela made a diet plan for you.”

Moon shrugged.  “I don’t know what those are,” he admitted.  “They’re good, though?”

Winston nodded as they turned the corner.  “Pilaf is a type of rice, and stir fry can be many things.”

“Oh.  Rice.”  Moon seemed a little underwhelmed.  “Like Jesse’s rice, or just rice?”

“Rice pilaf is similar to Jesse’s rice.  It tastes different, though.”

Moon nodded, eager to eat more types of food.

As they entered the kitchen they spotted Genji sitting with someone at the kitchen island.

“Ah, there you are!” Genji said as he stood up.  “Here, Moon, this is my master, Tekhartha Zenyatta.”

“Greetings!” Zenyatta said with a wave.

Moon made a tiny sound and stepped back, then bolted.

“That was not the reaction I was hoping for,” Genji said.  “Excuse me.” He pressed passed Winston and darted down the hallway, looking for the teen.  “Athena, where’s Moon?”

“Moon is in the next hallway.  I’ve blocked the way to the gym,” Athena chimed, and Genji thanked her.

He peeked his head around the corner, and spotted Moon leaning against the wall.   _ “Hey, little guy, what’s wrong?”  _ he asked in Mandarin, and Moon’s head snapped up.

_ “Omnic,” _ he spat out, and ducked against the wall.  _  “A big one.” _

_ “Are you afraid of them?” _  Genji walked slowly to him and leaned against the wall.

Moon nodded.   _ “They were, they were, the lab.”  _  Moon gathered himself up.   _ “They  were, they never said a thing.  They just were.” _

Genji gently lay a hand on his shoulder and Moon jumped, then settled down.   _ “Master is kind,”  _ Genji said softly.   _ “He believes in peace and communication, in compassion.  When we met, I was hurt, and still hurting. He helped me understand myself, love myself again.”   _

Moon looked to Genji’s hand, then to his face.  

_ “Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t take any shit from anyone, and sometimes what he teaches is difficult to understand and apply, but he won’t hurt you, OK?” _  Genji smiled softly.  

Moon nodded.

_ “Come on, let’s go meet him.”   _ Genji gave a gentle tug and Moon followed him back to the kitchen.  Genji made sure to walk slow, keeping pace with Moon, and not rush him.  They entered the kitchen, noting Morrison had joined them.

“There you are,” Morrison said as he started setting out materials.  “Sandwiches and pilaf for lunch, you in?” He examined a tomato and put it on the cutting board.

“Pilaf is steaming!” Winston announced.  “Genji was kind enough to start it earlier.”

Moon nodded and let Genji take him to Zenyatta.  “Hello,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Greetings!” Zenyatta said in a quiet tone.  “How are you?”

Moon shrank back into Genji, and the cyborg gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“I know something that might help!” Zenyatta chimed in a cheerful voice and reached into his pouch.  He pulled out a marker and drew on some eyebrows, quizzical slants, and Genji chuckled.

“I,” Moon said with a pause, “don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“I can remove them.”  Zenyatta rubbed on each eyebrow, smearing them.

Moon snorted a laugh.  

“Here, let me help,” Genji offered and grabbed a rag.  He scrubbed for a bit and sighed. “This isn’t a dry erase marker, master, let me get some hand sanitizer.”

Morrison gestured to the outside wall.  “End drawer, near the front.” He continued to slice tomatoes.  “What type of bread do you want, kid?”

“Type?” Moon asked carefully.

“White or wheat?”  Morrison pulled out some meat and started to slice that, as well.

“What’s the difference?”  Moon took the hand sanitizer Genji handed him.  “What do I do with this?”

“Just hold on to it.”  Genji squirted some on the paper towel and started to wipe the marker away.  “White is plain, wheat is more textured.”

“Wheat, then?” Moon guessed.  Once Zenyatta was free of eyebrows Morrison dropped sandwiches and plates of pilaf in front of them.  Moon sniffed at the orange drink Genji put in front of him. “What’s this? What’s that color? What’s it called?  Is that orange?” He poked the cup.

“It’s a diet orange soda.”  Genji shook his head as Moon mouthed the words.  “Just drink it.”

Moon sniffed it, intrigued, and took a short drink.  “It feels funny!” he snapped, and looked at it. “Why is it this?”  He took another drink. “I kinda like it.” He sniffed, thinking. “I like it.  Diet orange soda.” He put the glass down and took a large bite of rice. “OK, this stuff has flavor to it.  I like it.” The teen eagerly began to eat his second meal of the day.


	8. Chapter 08

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison might be a jerk, but he's not an asshole. He doesn't like scaring teenagers.

August 06, 2080, Tuesday after lunch

After lunch Genji and Zenyatta had agreed to talk Moon for a walk, and Winston almost dragged Morrison back to his lab.

“Jack,” Winston said as he held out a handful of printouts.  He had circled several paragraphs in various colors of ink and highlighter.  “Moon was a test run.” Winston pointed at several lines of highlighted text.  

Morrison knew they were words, but he didn’t know what they meant.  He shook his head and adjusted his visor. 

“Still having troubles?”

“It’s like there’s fuzz between the connections.  Moon disrupted a sensor or something.”

“Here, let me clean and realign it for you.”  

Morrison sat down and handed Winston the visor, not surprised Winston had the maintenance and cleaning tools so close at hand.  

“From what I can tell,” Winston said as he carefully adjusted the visor dataports, “Moon is clear of spyware.  He had a watching program in his eyes, and some trackers, but we turned those off in Barcelona.” Winston picked up the canned air and made soft puffs.  “His spine, Jack, his spine and neck are augmented.”

“That’s a bit expensive for Hound, isn’t it?” Morrison mused.  They were one of the smaller sects of Talon, not well funded but still dangerous.  He pulled out his braille board, opening the file Winston sent when he walked in. The soldier grunting, noting the gorilla was quite prepared and ready to poke about his visor.  Morrison read the report, but he didn’t understand most of it. He felt the 3D CT Scan image of the spine, pondering. It felt like a spine with cable supports like a suspension bridge, cables connecting the spine to itself and to some plates.  “I’ll have to see it to understand, I suppose.” He felt a long horizontal post and ran his thumb over it. “What’s this?”

“It’s his data port.  The teleport power isn’t in his spine, it IS his spine.  Which is why he needs the suit. He can only supply himself with so much energy to teleport, which is one of the reasons he’s underweight.  He’s drawing off of his own calories! Too much power and the suit overloads, destroying the spine, too little and it doesn’t work, and I’m not sure what the consequences are.  At any rate, his death was assured and he would have had a devastating end.”

Morrison could hear him using small tools on the delicate machinery of his visor.  “What else do you know?”

“He’s been genetically altered, and extensively.  Some of it’s cosmetic, like his hair, but most are actually similar to the Soldier Enhancement Project.  We’re still decoding most of the files, but we’re lucky. Moira always keeps excellent notes.” Winston suppressed a shudder.  “OK, I’ve replaced the bent connection in the port, I’m just going to clean it and reset it. We pulled some information from the suit, and if what I was reading is correct, there were Solars before Moons.  Solar Delta had it before him.”

“How many?”  Genji had said he mentioned Solars and Stars, but not how many.

Winston was quiet.  

“Winston.”

“The notes mention a fifteen Solars, Alpha through November.  At least five Stars, to Star Echo.” 

Morrison sighed quietly.  

“Visor is resetting, let me get at you.”   Winston’s warm hands gently tapped Morrison's temples, and he held a diagnostic tool to them.  “Hm, you’ve got a bent connection, right port, just a moment.” Winston pulled out a new series of tools.  “You’re going to feel this.” They sat quietly as Winston plugged the port correction tool into Morrison’s temple, and he pressed a button.

Morrison couldn’t quite describe the sensation of his port being adjusted.  He was aware of the pins being moved, but he didn’t feel pain. It was more like someone took two hairs on his arm and crossed them without touching his skin.  Once it was done he gave his head a soft shake, and continued to try and make sense of the report with his fingertips. 

Morrison sat patiently as Winston cleaned his dataports.  The sensors were flesh colored and nearly invisible, and took minimal care.  “What were the odds of his survival? Of the suit malfunctioning?” Morrison pondered as Winston checked the port with a flashlight.  He could make out the difference in light as Winston checked his pupils. “I’m fine, Winston, it’s the visor.” His vision was limited to knowing when the lights were on and if something were moving in front of a bright light.

“Just being thorough.  Here you are. It’s in front of you.”  

Angela sometimes put the visor back on for him or put it in his hands, but Winston always held it out for him.  

Morrison liked Angela, but he never liked her putting it on for him.  

“Better?” Winston asked as the visor came online.

Morrison tapped it and nodded.  “Much, thank you. What do we know about him personally?”

“Well, he’s Chinese, has a fondness for Jesse’s Mexican rice, and he’s quite terrified of you.  He might be fifteen, but no older than seventeen, but I’m fairly certain he’s fifteen. Taking malnourishment into account, he has the growth markers of a fifteen year old child.”

Morrison thought back to every conversation they’d had, how stiff and quiet he was when they were in the interrogation room.  “I suppose I did crack his jaw pretty good. I’ll talk to him. It’s almost time for our daily meeting, anyways.”

  
  
  


Moon sat down in the chair in the interrogation room, wrists out, but Morrison didn’t cuff him.  

“I think we’re beyond that.”  He sat down, folder in hand, and flipped through it.  “So, let’s talk about Guangdong.”

“Let’s not.”  

The sudden fear and stiffness confirmed Morrison’s suspicions about Guangdong.  “Moon,” Morrison started.

“Morrison,” Moon countered, just like Jesse did.  Morrison looked down at him, and Moon shrunk down.  “Sorry.” His voice was quiet. The added sir was barely hissed.

“OK, let’s talk about your language skills.  You speak a few languages. Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Mandarin, you speak some Cantonese, then?”

“Just a little.  Enough.”

“Your English is excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Moon tucked his chin on his knees again.  Moon looked down at his hands and rippled his fingers nervously.  

“But you can’t read it.  Or anything else.” 

Moon nodded, not having been aware it was something to be embarrassed about before.  

“Well, you did OK getting by this far.  Reading classes have been added to your schedule.  Just let us know important things in the future, please.”

“I just didn't think it was important,” Moon said quietly.  “It was never something I needed, or had, you know? I was blind for a few years, and Hound didn’t think I needed it, so, yeah.”  Moon scuffed his feet. “Yeah.” 

“I’m not upset at you, you know this, right?” Morrison asked, and Moon nodded quickly.  “Are you scared of me, Moon?” 

Moon looked down, nervous.  

“So, Moon Echo.”  

Moon nodded.  

Morrison tried to keep his blender voice even.  “How’d you get that name?”

“I was in the moon group, and I was test subject E.”

“So you’re only called Moon Echo?”  

Moon nodded at him.  

Morrison was certain the teen didn’t mean to be so aggravating, but getting answers from his was like pulling teeth.  “Do you have a name?” Morrison remained patient when Moon didn’t answer. “Been a while since you used it?” 

He looked away, then back, and Morrison suddenly realized his eyes were both emerald green.  

“Did Winston get you new eyes?”

“He, um, fixed them for me.  Pulled the parts out, put new ones in.  They’re not the new  _ new  _ ones, but they work better and my head doesn’t hurt from the lights any more.  That’s a good thing. I see colors better, now, things focus easier. It’s not, you know, hazy.”

“I’m impressed you got as far as you did with impaired vision!”  As Morrison hoped the teen brightened at the praised.

“That’s what Winston said.”  

“So you were in Moon group?” he asked, and Moon nodded shallowly.  “How many were you?”

“Um, eh, twenty one of us.  Sir.”

“And how many of the others?  Suns and Stars?” Morrison couldn't help but be angry.  How many children needed to suffer? 

Moon had picked up on Morrison’s shifting emotion and his voice was very quiet.  “None of the Stars survived. They were, you know, not strong. Not like the Solars.”  He plucked at the band of his left glove. “There, um, Alpha, Beta,” he said as he counted.  “Fifteen Solars. Not suns. Solars.”

“So up to Oscar?” Morrison guessed.

“No, just November.  There was Igloo and India.”  Moon pulled his knees up to his chin.  “There were eighteen Stars. They’re, they’re all gone, now.”  His voice was quiet.

“I’m sorry this all happened to you.  We’d like to rescue the others, get them out of the lab.”

“You can’t,” Moon said quietly.  “If you leave, I mean, without permission, you just don’t, you just don’t go.  You, um, you know.” He dragged his finger in a circle on the table. “Solar Juliette tried.  He didn’t, he just, he stopped.”

Morrison stood up and moved his chair to sit next to Moon.  His heart dropped a little when the teen shrank away from him.  “We won’t let that happen. We’ll do everything we can to save them.”

“Most of them are dead.  All the Stars are dead.” Moon drew into himself as tightly as he could.  “Can I go back to my cell, now?” he asked quietly, and Morrison carefully draped an arm over his shoulder.

Morrison adjusted his visor a little.  “We’re trying to decide what to do with you.  If we let you go, Hound will get you. You’ve got no chance on the outside against him, or Talon.  They know you’re here, but they won’t try to take you from us. We’re too fortified here.”

He flipped gave Moon’s arm a squeeze and the teen leaned into his side.  “M16 has an interest in teleportation. They want to use it for all sorts of things, but Angela, that’s Dr. Zeigler to you, doesn’t think it can be removed without hurting you.  So we need to keep you safe from them, too.”

He looked down and Moon looked up.  “You’ve never been in control of yourself, have you?” Morrison asked quietly.  

Moon shrugged.  

“You’ve never had options, and we don’t have any good ones for you.”  Morrison sighed a little louder than he wanted to. “We’re not giving you a choice, either.”

“At least you feed me,” Moon said in a hopeful tone.  He didn’t want Morrison upset; adults did weird and scary things when they got upset.  “And I got a dry place to sleep. And I’m not a slave or a prisoner.”

Morrison smiled sadly for a second and Moon saw the strange expression before Morrison caught himself.  “You’re still going to be, well, a prisoner, but you’ll have free run of half of the place. A good quarter.  We just need to get you more clothes, some boots,” Morrison said.

“I want my jacket!” Moon said quickly.  “I, she gave it to me.” 

Morrison tilted his head at Moon.  

“Moira.  She, she said,” Moon faltered.  “She said I was brave.” 

It was obvious to Morrison that Moon had complicated feelings about Moira O'Deorain.

“You went through some horrible things, Moon.  Your jacket’s in poor condition, but it’s being repaired.”  Moon nodded. “C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.” Morrison gestured to the door and stood, and Moon followed him.  

“Room?” he asked, unsure.

“It’s not a cell, it’s a bedroom.  Since you’re not officially a prisoner,” Morrison said, “you can roam around the building freely.  You can’t go into personal spaces or storage, but you can roam halls, the gym, the media room and the kitchen.  Outside doors won’t open for you, understood? Not without an escort.” 

Moon nodded at him, unsure what to do with so much freedom.  

They entered the building most of the bedrooms were in, and Moon spotted a few signs on the doors.  One was in Mandarin and he paused. 

“You can put your name on the door if you like, like Mei has.  Actually, looks like Winston beat you to it.” They stopped at a door with a map of the moon on it.  The craters and mares were labeled in Chinese. “Here, this is your communicator.”

He handed a small device to Moon, and it flickered.  “It’s your key to the place. If you lose it Athena will assume you’re an intruder and put you in lock down until you’re rescued.”  Morrison gestured to the door panel and Moon looked at it. “Just tap it.” Moon pressed the panel and the door opened. “My recommendation is to put it in your gloves.  Jesse keeps his in his left hand.”

Moon’s room was larger than his cell, and he stepped inside.  There was a single sized bed with a night sky themed comforter set, a desk and chair, and a dresser.  There were no windows, but the light was ample, the vents were active and the ceiling high, so it wasn’t entirely like a tomb.  

“It’s a little bland, but you can decorate.  We’re a heavily fortified building, so windows aren’t really a thing.  Lena put lights on the wall and put them on a timer, and covered them with a curtain for false windows.”  Morrison gestured to the sliding doors. “There’s your closet, and you’ve got a small shower. Thought you might like your privacy.”  

Moon nodded and opened the closet.  There were several pairs of pants, some shirts and a few pairs of boots.  

“Oddly enough, we had five pairs of boots in your size, and four pairs of shoes.”

“And they’re mine?” Moon asked carefully.   

Morrison nodded at him.  “All yours. The clothes, the bed, the room.  You need to keep it clean and there will be room checks, but we won’t barge in on your privacy.  Normally we don’t like food in the rooms, you can thank Lúcio for that later, but Jesse thought you might like some rations for peace of mind.”

Morrison pointed to a small box between the desk and the bed, and Moon opened it to see several small packets of MREs and a few water bottles.  

“Speaking of food, why don’t you come help me make dinner after you have a nap.  It’s my turn. Thought we’d make Philly Cheese Steaks Sandwiches.” 

Moon could hear the pride in Morrison’s voice as he made up his mind.  

“Some steak fries, a salad for Angela, we’ll be all set.  Get some rest, OK?”

 

\---

 

This time, Moon didn’t look like he was trying to bolt the entire meal.  He had helped toast bread, slice vegetables, fetch plates, and pour coffee, whatever was asked of him.  Moon seemed interested in learning, and Morrison took the time to teach, and Morrison hoped his fear was lessening.

“I think we’ll fire up the grill once everyone is back,” Morrison said as they took Winston his Veggie Cheese Steak and Dr. Ziegler her salad.  

They then sat quietly in the kitchen, eating their sandwiches and with Morrison going over basic letters in English.  It seemed Moon had some reading skill, but not much. He could recognize letters and certain words, and knew his name.  It was easy to teach him the individual letters, and Morrison found him some a pudding cup while he practiced.


	9. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison manages not to traumatize the teen for a change. In fact, he does the opposite.

August 07, 2080, Dead of the Morning

Reaper was after him.  

As Moon ran he could feel Reaper’s sandy breath on him, and his claws tickled his throat.  He could hear to click-tap of his boots, the hush of his coat, the soft tap tap tap of his ammunition touching and moving away. Moon called out for help, but no one would come.  

No one ever came.

Reaper wouldn’t stop.

Reaper would never stop.

Moon Echo, last of the Moon Project, would die by his hands, he was certain of it.  

“Moon?”  

Moon kept running, lurching from hall to hall, slamming into walls as he couldn’t take corners, trying to escape the inevitable.  

“Moon!”  

Reaper’s form surrounded him, filled his lungs, tightened, and Moon tried to scream, but there was only drowning in a hateful pit of embers and sand.  

“Moon, you need to wake up!”

Moon was held down, Reaper forming all around him, when there was a scent of cigarettes.  

That was wrong, Reaper smelled like ash and rotten jerked meat.  

“Moon.”  

That wasn’t Reaper’s voice.  It was harsh on the ears and sounded like gargled glass, but it wasn’t Reaper’s voice.

Moon struggled to get away, but he couldn’t pry the arms from around him.  

“You’re safe, kid, you’re safe, Moon, talk to me.”

_ “No, stop, please," he sobbed in Mandarin, and felt something wrap around him.   _ “Don’t, don’t, don’t!  No, I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die!” _ _

__

“Kid, wake up.  It’s me. It’s Jack.  C’mon, Moon, wake up.”

Reaper never called him kid or Moon.  Reaper called them dogs, or rodents, or subjects.  Moon felt frozen and he stopped struggling, and he carefully opened his eyes.  

Morrison was kneeling on Moon’s bed, holding him.  “There we go, that’s better, isn’t it?” 

Moon’s breathing had changed, alerting Morrison to his awakeness.

Dreaming.  

He was dreaming again.

Moon gripped Morrison tight, struggling to breathe.  “It’s OK. I need you to look around, all right?” Morrison touched his ear softly, and Moon stopped making the noise he wasn’t aware had fallen from his lips.  “Look around you. Tell me what you see, five things you can see.”

“What?”  Moon was confused, and Morrison gripped his shoulders.

“What can you see, Moon?”

“My, my room.  We’re in my room.”

“Four more things, tell me what you see.”  His voice was patient and even.

“I, the poster.  Genji gave me a poster.  My, the, the window thing Lena helped me put up.”

“You’re doing good, kid.  What else? Two more things, what do you see.”

“My bathroom door.  My, the, the shelf. The desk.  I have a book case.”

“Good kid, that’s good, now what can you touch?  Tell me four things, Moon.”

“There’s, you, there’s you, my, um, my blanket with the stars on it,” he said, and Morrison nodded at him.  “And my hair’s everywhere, and, and, the bed.” Moon adjusted his breathing. 

“That’s great, you’re doing great.  What do you hear? Three things, kid, tell me what you hear.”

“Um, I hear you, you’re talkings.  And there’s the vents. And, and that machine sound.  Air conditioner. Vents. Is that three?”

“That’s three.  Can you smell anything?  Two things.”

“I, you smell like cigarettes. I don’t know what else to smell.”  Moon started to sit up and Morrison helped him. “I don’t know what else I smell.”

Morrison’s touch was comforting.  “How’re you doing, kid?”

“It, I, I was dreaming.  Reaper.”

“You were crying out, we were worried.  Are you awake? Gonna need a verbal, kid.”

Moon looked up and realised he didn’t have a visor on.  “I’m nodding. I’m awake.” Moon didn't know the desperate sprint Morrison made to his room when he heard Moon screaming, barreling past Jesse and almost passing his door.

“Good.  C’mon, up.”  Morrison helped him to the edge of the bed.  “Now, talk to me, Moon, let me know what’s going on.”  His voice was soft and somehow gentle, and Moon felt himself breaking down.  Why did he deserve such a kind voice? 

Morrison’s hand was on his shoulder, but he wasn’t weighing Moon down.  He had awakened him carefully, had pulled him from his nightmare. 

What had Moon done to deserve that?

He simply leaned into Morrison’s side and cried.  “He killed the others!” he sobbed. “He’s going to kill me.”  

Morrison rubbed his shoulder, looking down at a kid who didn’t deserve what happened to him.  

“He’s going to kill me!”

“The other moons?”

“The moons, the stars, a few solars.  Whenever Naomi was done he killed them.  He just killed the all stars one night, we could hear the shots!”  Moon started crying and Morrison held him. “Just shot and shot and shot and shot and they were crying and then they weren’t and it was over.  And he’s in the room, he never opened the door, and he’s all, the stars are gone, don’t get any ideas. And he was there, I knew he was still there, and then he left.  And then Kilo was gone when, we just, we took count, and Kilo was gone.”

Morrison pulled him closer and let him cry.  

“We vanished, one by one!”  

He could feel Morrison rippling his fingers, comforting him quietly.  

“He killed them!”

“I’m sorry, Moon, not a single one of you kids deserved that.  I’m sorry the world failed you, that we didn’t get to you in time.”  Morrison gave him another squeeze. “You have a lot of nightmares?” Morrison internally called himself a fool in every language he knew.  

“Sometimes.”  Moon sunk into Morrison’s side, exhaustion seeping from his compact frame.  Moon nodded mutely, hiccuping. 

Had he ever slept alone before?  Morrison didn’t imagine drug houses and science labs had individual bedrooms.  “Here, I’ll stay with you for a while, OK?”

Moon nodded and continued to lean into him.

  
  
  


“How is he?” Jesse asked softly, and Morrison gave Moon a gentle nudge.  

Moon had cried himself asleep so Morrison scooped him up and scooted backwards into the corner, braced one pillow behind his back, and the other under his knees.  Moon had clung to him the rest of the night, sleeping deeper than Morrison thought he could.

“Kid’s never had any meaningful physical contact,” Morrison guessed as Jesse brushed Moon’s hair aside to look at his round face.  

Moon gave a soft sound and settled deeper into Morrison’s shoulder.  

“And he drools.  Athena, and quietly, are you recording any hard nights for Moon?”

Athena’s voice was quiet.  “I do not record personal spaces.  In his cell he was troubled but slept through the night.”  Morrison rubbed Moon’s back, feeling his dataport, and Morrison gave a contemplative noise.

  
  
  


August 07, 2080, mid morning

Moon was sitting in his usual folded position as Angela pulled up the reader.  “OK, let me get a look at you. I’m concerned.”

“I’m fine.  I slept OK.”  He had to admit he was feeling far more rested than he had been recently, even if he was confused when he first woke up.  At first he panicked until Morrison shifted, giving a snore, and Moon realized Morrison’s arms were draped around him and he was covered up with his space blanket.  Moon then settled, feeling safe for the first time in ages, and slept until Morrison woke him long after the sun rose.

“We’re going to have a talk about that.  How often do you have nightmares?”

“Pretty much always.”

“Is it always Reaper?” she asked asked as she draped the Pachimari blanket over Moon again.  It worried her he was always cold! 

“Usually.  Sometimes it’s the tube.”  

“Moon,” she said quietly, “we want to help you, but you have to talk to us.”

“You keep saying that,” he said quietly.

“It’s because we mean it!  Come on, let me check you out.”  She held up the reader and he sighed.  “I want to check your sleep cycle. If there’s anything I can do to help you sleep better, I want to.”  

Moon groaned again.  

“Don’t you like sleeping?”

“I do,” he said flatly, and she shook the reader.  “It just tingles when it turns on.” Moon gave one of his weird strangled noises and pulled the back of his shirt up.  “You want to know what’s really stupid?”

“What’s that, Moon?” Angela asked as she used his shirt to wipe some fuzz from the dataport before opening it.  It looked like he had been playing with the dataport, which was common. It was high on his spine so he could open it, and sometimes fuzz could get caught up when it was closed.

“It’s hard to be scared of someone named Gabby.  It’s just not a threatening name.” 

Angela froze, hands over his dataport cover.  “Why the name Gabby?” she asked quietly. “Where did you get that name?”

“Moira called him that.  It irritated him. What’s wrong?”

“I just used to know a Gabriel, that’s all,” she said quietly.  “Here, I’m plugging you in.” Angela lifted the cover and plugged Moon into the computer.  “OK, just pulling your biometrics, and here, sleep cycles.” She sighed as she started going through the data.  “You need to get to bed at a better time, young man!”

“What all information can you get from that?” he wondered out loud.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Angela asked as she brought up the menus.  “I can pull almost anything it records, set it to record certain things.”

“Can it, like, tell you when I poop?” he asked, and Angela suddenly laughed, and tried to silence herself by coughing into her hand.

“Genji wanted to know the same thing.  Here, functions, eliminations.” She held the datapad out, and Moon made knowing noises at it.  “You can’t make it out at all, can you?”

“Nope, but it’s weird to know it’s there.  Hey, does it record, like, hair growth?” 

“Hm, let’s see, here, ideal growth is actually, oh, my, almost a foot a year!  Average is almost six inches.” She scrolled. “Odd, it says you don’t have any hair aside from head and eyebrows.”

“Yep.  Nothing.”  She raised an eyebrow and examined his arm.  “I’m not showing you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”  She continued to scroll. “Strange, what’s a video doing here?  These should all be reports and metrics, not storage. Sloppy.” She pulled up a file under the EYES file and clicked play.

Moira’s form filled the screen and she moved a finger from one side to the other.  She was saying something, but there was no audio as she pulled up a flashlight and the image faded to white, then returned slowly.  She looked at a monitor and scowled, then turned back and they could make out her long fingers petting the side of the camera.

“Huh.  I remember that,” Moon said.  “She was testing my new eyes. She never trusted Naomi to do things right.”

“There are several of these littered all over the place.  Why are they in biometrics?” She opened another one, this time with audio, out of synch and possibly recorded from Moira’s lapel.

“How have you been, a stór?”

“Very well, ma’am.”

“Is that what I sound like?  I sound horrible!” Moon squeaked.

“You were younger then, Moon.”

“Would you like a strawberry?”  Moira held a berry out and it vanished below the camera.  “Very good, a leanbh.” Her fingers brushed over Moon’s cheek again.  “Now, my child, are you ready for today’s experiments?”

Angela looked over when she heard the noise, but she wasn’t prepared for Moon gagging.  She quickly ejected the reader and rotated him, aiming him towards the sink. “Oh, Moon, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even thinking!”  She managed to keep him from hitting his head on the sink as he spat out bile. “I’m so sorry. Athena, call someone, would you? Jack, or Jesse?”

“Just... wasn’t prepared.”

By the time Jesse jogged into the room Moon was laying on the other examination table, curled up and working on a bottle of coconut water and some chocolates.  “Hey, Athena said you needed someone? What’s going on, little buddy?”

“I made a poor decision.  He has datafiles, videos and audio, stored in his biometric banks.  Why would she hide them?”

Jesse rotated Moon at sat next to him.  “Hm, anything we can use to locate the lab?”  

Angela and Moon blinked at each other.  

“If we can find the lab, we can stop them if they’re still creating weapons from children.”


	10. Home Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They learn things Moon isn’t tell them.
> 
> Note- images of past abuse

 

August 07, 2080, mid afternoon

“Well, anything useful on yours?” Morrison asked as he clicked to the next file.  It had no audio, like so many of them, and was Moon’s eyes flickering back and forth, watching people in front of him.  Some of them were vision tests, color charts and tracking movements. This one had him pointing to different index cards, and the video was of amazing quality.  

“What’s he doing here?” Morrison muttered to himself, and Jesse looked over.

“Different shades of red, boss.  Looks like it’s a color picking test.”  

Morrison nodded, since while he could technically see, it wasn’t perfect.  It was like a video file that had been saved improperly and run through a filter and over-corrected.  The colors were somewhat dulled, the edges softer and things that moved too quickly sometimes didn’t track.  He was grateful he had anything at all, remembering the first visor. That one had difficulty tracking moving objects and left ghost images and migraines in its wake.

Morrison flipped to the next video.  

Moon was now reaching more advanced training.  He was moving his hands in certain motions, rotating, pressing, sliding invisible things.  Oddly enough the HUD he was affecting didn’t register, though the effects did. Moon’s vision changed colors, activated a low light setting, or made his hands shimmer in the chameleon suit.

Hanzo reached over to look at Morrison’s datapad.  “None of the HUDs are visible on my screens either,” he muttered, and Morrison nodded.  “This is sloppy programming.”

Jesse snapped his fingers and pointed at his own screen.  “They’re displayed in their own files, check it out. Want to take time to match them up?”

“I don’t think that will help us find anything useful,” Morrison said and his lips twitched.  

Reaper was now part of the files.  In some he was just standing, watching, occasionally moving a hand and bobbing his head as he talked.  

Morrison knew his body language well.

He was pleased in this video.  He was impatient in the next, and in the fragmented audio they could hear the click of his boots tapping.  In another he was using his personal communicator. In this one Reaper was threatening a man in a suit, one who had been in several videos before.  

Hanzo was running him through facial recognition, but he never seemed to stop sweating and the glare made recognition difficult.   

Reaper was gesturing to Moon, and Morison thought he looked like he was bargaining for a better price on a used car, though he was most likely demanding obedience. 

Moon’s head bobbed and Reaper’s head snapped over to him.  

Morrison winced as Reaper stomped over, guessing the teen had a snappy remark.  

Reaper backhanded Moon and the world went reeling, and his vision flickered and was flooded with static.  

Moon was hauled up and shoved back, and Morrison quickly swiped to the next video before he had to watch Reaper backhand him again.

“Wait, go back,” Lena said and Morrison pulled it back up.  “Look, there, can we enhance that?” Somehow she had spotted the monitor with a date on it.  

It was easily visible before Reaper’s strike, a few days before Moon broke into the Barselona labs.  After the strike the video quality became poor and jumpy. They could make out a location on the monitor, Barcelona, and a travel plan.  Morrison quickly started to calculate a trajectory.

“Poor kid,” Genji hissed.  

“It’s a miracle he survived,” Hanzo muttered.  He turned his datapad to show Moon looking in a mirror.  His eyes were better, but barely.

Reaper was behind him, hands on his shoulder.  They could hear pale audio. “And you’re sure he’s read-”  Reaper’s voice cut out, then back in when he pulled his mouth near Moon’s ear.  “-ill you myse-.”

They could see Moon’s eyes dart from Reaper’s reflection to his shoulders, where Reaper’s claws flexed, constantly adjusting their grip.  Moon’s face was passive, but they could see the fear and discomfort in it. 

Hanzo taped the date, a few days before the date on Morrison’s screen.

Reaper suddenly put a hand on the back of Moon’s head and slammed his head into the mirror.  They could make out Reaper near his face, and the scratchy audio picked up again. “-sor, understand?  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, the visor!  Get the-!” 

The video cut, then returned, once more silent and fuzzy.  

Moon was watching Reaper pass through the bars on the door.  He flicked over to the man in the suit, who then pressed a button and the screen went dark.  

Head trauma and constantly turning the biotics off and on again had created a poor, decaying vision, and Morrison knew how terrifying that could be.

Jesse stood up.  “‘scuse me.” He grabbed his hat and left, and wandered outside.  “Athena, where’s Moon?”

“Moon is with Winston in his lab.”

“Thank you, darlin.”

“Da nada.”  It had taken a few weeks to get Athena to say it, possibly since Winston kept insisting she stop, so she said it rarely, but it made Jesse smirk each time.  

He wandered down to Winston’s lab and let himself in.  

Moon was sitting on the tale next to Winston, datapad in hand.  “OK, so when does an island become a continent?” he was asking, and Winston looked up.  “Au-sti, what is this?” He chanted to word with Winston. “So Austraiai is not an island.  But it is an island. Is it both?”

Winston looked up as Jesse walked over to them both.  “ Hello, Jesse, can I help you?”

“Is it because of the plates thingies?” Moon was asking, and Jesse took the datapad from him.  “Um, I’m doing school stuff?” 

Jesse then scooped Moon up and hugged him, holding him off the ground.  

Moon hugged him back, confused, arms over Jesse’s shoulders.  “You OK?”

“Just thought you could use one.  You been through a lot.” When Jesse was Moon's age he had fervently wished someone would have comforted him one time, just one damned time, but Blackwatch was not the place for positive physical comfort.  He just held Moon for a while.

“Jesse?” Moon eventually asked, and Jesse looked down.  “I can’t breathe through your beard.” Jesse chuckled and let Moon go.

“Get your schoolin’ done, kid.  You don’t want to end up like me.”

“A cowboy who doesn’t know how to shave?” Moon guessed and Jesse let out a laugh.  

He sobered suddenly, wondering what he had said in the video to make Reaper hit him, and just how easily he said things like that now.  

“Are you sure you’re OK and you’re just checking to see if I’m OK to make yourself feel OK because you’re not OK?”

Jesse grinned down at him.  “Smart kid.” He ruffled Moon’s hair, sending the braids flickering, and pulled back.  “Spaghetti for dinner, don’t be late or Lena’ll get it all.”

  
  
  


Morrison was watching the video of Moon sleeping in his cell.

The teen was twitching and clutching his pillow, and the camera could make out his twisted face.

Morrison clicked his communicator and and dialed Angela.  “Angie? Can you make something for me?” he asked, and gave her the details.


	11. T.G.T.F.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon discovers something about himself as he meets new friends.

August 08, 2080, mid morning

Moon had been sitting on the kitchen table, knees to his chin as usual, datapad balanced on his knees.  A voice was reading in his headphones as the words highlighted on the screen Winston had loaned him. 

As Morrison walked by he scooped up Moon under his armpits and planted him on the bench.  “Butts go in chairs, kid.” The field commander grabbed a water from the cooler and cracked it open.  “Supply run’s coming in.”

“Quit moving me!” Moon snapped and adjusted his headphones.  He had tried earbuds earlier, but his ears were too small for them.  He liked the feel of headphones, of locking out the noise as he practiced reading.

“Then keep your ass off the table.”  Morrison took a long drink of water. He looked sharply at Moon when he muttered in Mandarin.  “And be rude in English.”

“I’m sitting on the table once you leave,” Moon repeated.

Morrison locked eyes with him, and Moon looked back to his tablet.  “Winston?” Morrison sighed.

“I am the last person to ask to make someone sit in a chair like a human being,” the gorilla stated and popped the rest of his muffin in his mouth.  He watched as Morrison grabbed one of the muffins and wandered away.

Moon waited for the sliding door to shut before crawling back onto the table, and Winston loaned his wrist for the teen to balance on.  “Can I have some of those strawberries?” Moon asked as he gestured towards the fruit bowl.

Winston blinked.  “Oh, there are raspberries.  I’m assuming she called all small fruits and berries strawberries?” Winston asked and pushed the bowl closer.

Moon’s face reddened a little.

“What type of strawberries is your favorite?” Winston asked quietly.  Every day felt like a lesson in just how little Moon knew. He was bright, of that there was no doubt, but ignorant on so many levels.

The teen poured a few raspberries into his hand.  “They look like these, but they’re really dark.” Moon pressed a few raspberries into his muffin like Jesse had earlier that morning.

“Blackberries,” Winston guessed.  “I’ll put some on the shopping list.”

Moon adjusted his tablet and returned to  his book. It was easier to read with the voice narrating along with him.

 

“There is nothing to be done," said the little woman calmly.

"But who was she?" asked Dorothy.

“She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said,” answered the little woman. “She has held all the Munchkins in bondage for many years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all set free, and are grateful to you for the favor."

 

Moon snorted.  “I’m glad she’s dead.  I hope the Munchkins are OK.”  He looked at Dorothy in the illustration, and traced his fingers over the lines.  The datapad wouldn’t let him continue the story until he read the words back, and he slapped his hand on the table looking for his muffin.  

Winston shoved it closer as he read his own scientific journal.  “Oh, they’re fine, Moon.” Winston scooped his peanut butter with some celery, wishing he hadn’t finished the raisins so soon.  “There are, do you want me to spoil it for you?”

“Who the what?” Moon asked and looked up.

“There’s another race of people who are enslaved, but Dorothy frees them, too,” Winston explained.

“Good.  I like Dorothy.  She’s nice.” Moon took a bite of muffin and a sip of tea.  “This is a neat story. I like it.” He found his place and started to read again.

 

"Who are the Munchkins?" inquired Dorothy.

"They are the people who live in this land of the East where the Wicked Witch ruled."

"Are you a Munchkin?" asked Dorothy.

 

“What’s a munchkin?” Moon asked and took another bite of muffin, getting an entire berry this time.

There was a soft chime and Winston and Moon looked up as Athena made an announcement.  “Ray is making his final approach.”

“Ah, good, come on, Moon, let’s help bring supplies in.”  Winston gestured to Moon as he stood up.

Moon saved his place and tucked his datapad in the messenger bag Hanzo had found while tidying a storage room.  It had a crescent moon and the words “Eight Hermit Gods” on it, a relic of a Rickenbacker concert, and he had given it to Moon along with some of their albums.  Moon was enjoying the music everyone shared with him after breakfast. 

Genji and Winston both had a wide variety, and from what Moon has skimmed through Genji liked harder, faster sounding music than the others.  Jesse had something called country and western, which sounded the same to Moon, and classic rock, which wasn’t as hard as what Genji liked. Morrison had a limited pallet of bland and Angela had yet to introduce him to her music, and he was eagerly awaiting for her to drop some in his music player.  Hanzo was a mystery, a blend of heavy metal, western, modern pop and traditional Japanese and modern rock, and Moon wasn’t sure he hadn’t just given him random music.

They wandered over to the landing pad and watched as Jesse embraced a woman only slightly shorter than he was as she hopped out of the cargo bay.  He put his prized hat on her head as they talked, and she gave it back and handed over a small package.

Whatever it was Jesse loved it, aiming a kiss at her cheek, and she put one hand on his face and shoved.  They laughed and she unfolded a ramp. 

A second figure appeared at the cargo bay, a Chinese woman Jesse greeted just as happily, and the three chatted as a young man with dark skin and thick braids on the top of his head hopped out.  The hat passed around the friends before ending up back on Jesse’s head, and he turned to the dark skinned man.

Moon could feel his cheerfulness from across the landing pad, and he felt his heart stop a little.  For some reason he felt the need to duck out of sight. “Who’s that?” he asked and peered around the corner.

“Well, the tall woman, that’s Fareeha, and that’s doctor Zhou Mei-Ling, she speaks Mandarin, and he’s Lúcio,” Winston said, and Moon blushed and pulled back.  “Go say hi. They’re all very nice.”

Moon continued to blush and he pulled away.  “I think I’ll talk to him at dinner.” Moon leaned against the wall, letting Winston outpace him as he watched Lúcio pick up a box and walk away.  

Winston clapped Moon on the shoulder and guided him to the Orca.  “Fareeha, how are you?” he grinned and was handed a box. Dr. Zhou had already taken a hoverlift to the lab.

“Pretty good, Winston!”  Winston hauled her into a one-armed hug and she embraced him.  “Who’s this?”

Winston put a hand on Moon’s back and gently pushed him forward a few inches.  “This is Moon Echo. He’s a guest.” 

Moon nodded at her.  She was tall with dark skin and a tattoo under one eye, and she carried herself with great confidence.  Moon felt exceptionally short next to her.

“He’s with us for the time being.”  Winston clapped Moon’s shoulder gently.  

“Nice to meet you, you can help deliver parts.  Garage, please!” She gave Moon a box and he almost crumbled under it.  “You OK, there?”

‘I still function!” Moon gasped and Winston handed him a dolly.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” Fareeha laughed as he figured out how to work the dolly.  “You feeding him?’ Moon heard her ask as he wheeled the box into the garage. 

As he put the box on the shelf he heard Jesse laughing, and Moon peeked out the door.  

Jesse and Lúcio were hauling more crates, and Lúcio smiled over at Moon.  

Moon’s throat let him know it existed and he ducked back into the garage.  What the hell was wrong with him? He waited for Jesse and Lúcio to enter, then tessered quickly back to the Orca.  He was a little breathless, but after seeing Lúcio, he wasn’t sure if it was from the teleport or from him.

“Here, these are for the kitchen,” Fareeha said and Moon took the box.  Moon nodded and loaded the dolly, and heard Jesse talking as he and Lúcio returned.  

Moon ducked inside the Orca with a soft sound, and Fareeha looked at him oddly.  

“Hey, Reeha,” Jesse said, “have you seen Moon?  Want him to meet Lúcio.” 

Fareeha looked in at Moon and he shook his head.  “Sorry, just missed him. Here, for the med bay.”

Lúcio dropped the supplies on the cart and waved.  “Cool, I’ll go say hi to Angela!”

Fareeha stopped and looked over at Moon.  “You OK?” 

He nodded, and Jesse looked inside.

“What’cha hiding from?” he asked wryly, a knowing grin spread over his face.

“Nothing!” Moon snapped quickly, hopped out and started taking the supplies to the kitchen.  After taking a few wild guesses as to what went where in the pantry Athena activated and guided him.  Once he was done Moon started taking the dolly back to the plane when he Jesse spotted him and waved him down again.

“Hey, hi, you must be Moon Echo!” Lúcio said and Moon jumped.  “Don’t worry, I don’t bite!”

“Kid’s just a little shy,” Jesse said and nudged Moon with his elbow.  “G’won, don’t be rude.” 

Jesse laughed as Moon babbled quickly in Mandarin, turned, and left, face red.  “I think your fame precedes you.”

“It’s OK, I’m used to it.  Besides, he’ll come around!  Hana did! Hey, is that Angela?  Angie, hey, there you are, hi!” Lúcio skated off and Jess smirked.

He tapped his communicator.  “Hey, Athena, did you catch what Moon just said?”

“I’m assuming you mean in English.  From what I can tell it was basically, ‘You of the be the he what?’  Roughly.” 

Jesse laughed heartily and adjusted his hat.  

“Would you like me to keep track of him?”

“Naw, it’s good, Theeny.”  Jesse slung a barrel of water over his shoulder as Hanzo strolled up with the cart.  “Hey, Han, wanna hear something cute?”

“Cute is not my thing.”  Hanzo and Jesse loaded the water on the cart.  “Does Lúcio have another frog item?” he asked in an interested tone.

“Moon’s got a crush on him.  Kid’s too gay to function around him.”  

Hanzo snorted through his nose, almost a laugh.  “There are worse people to crush on than Lúcio,” he said with a nod.

“Like who?” Jesse asked, and Hanzo grinned at him.  “Asshole.” 

Hanzo smirked at him and pushed the water to the lab.  

 

\---

 

“Ah, fresh ingredients!” Jesse hummed happily as he resorted the pantry.  “Who all wants sopa azteca for dinner? Moon, you wanna learn how to make masa?  I got some cal and fresh corn meal!” 

“No,” Mei said, “we should make something Chinese for Moon, since he hasn’t had proper Chinese in a while!  I’m making zha jiang mian!”

“How about some buckwheat,” Genji started to asked, but Moon shot up like a rocket.

He almost dumped his datapad to the floor and knocked over Jesse’s empty coffee mug in the same movement.   _ “I want noodles!” _ Moon suddenly blurted out in Mandarin.   _ “I want noodles!  Wheat noodles! Are you making wheat noodles?  I love wheat noodles!”  _ How long had it been since Kilo stole some for him?

_ “Wheat noodles with pork mince,” _ she said, and Moon’s tongue slipped briefly from the corner of his mouth.

_ “And, and,” _ he started, and Mei nodded.  Moon moved over to stand next to Mei, his hands on the counter.   _ “And dumplings?” _

_ “Dumplings, too!”  _ she cheered, and Moon’s grin grew.  _  “I make my own noodles, you can help!  I’ll show you how.” _

_ “I can help!” _  He bounced up and down a few times in excitement.   _ “Can I help?” _

“What’s go you all hopping about now?” Jesse asked as he put his coffee cup in the sink.  “Literally, too, I might add.”

_ “Mei’s going to teach me how to make noodles and we’re having noodles with pork mince and dumplings and are there radishes?  I haven’t had radishes in so long. We get real food!” _ he gushed and looked to Mei.   _ “You mean it, right?  We’re making noodles?” _

_ “Of course I mean it!”  _ she said as she rolled her eyes.   _ “Do I LOOK like a woman who jokes about noodles?” _  She pat her belly and then shoved on his shoulder.   _ “Wash your hands, we’ll get started!” _

Moon quickly went to put his hands in the sink and paused.  “I don’t think they’re waterproof,” he said quietly and rippled his fingers.

“Well, here, some gloves, then.”  Mei tugged some latex gloves over Moon’s hands and nodded.  “Now, wash up and let’s cook!”


	12. Dinner Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Jesse finally get to settle their bet. Morrison, once more, traumatizes poor Moon.

August 08, 2080

Dinner Time

  
  
  


While Mei and Moon made their noodles, Genji had insisted on making rice.  Once they had sit down at the table Genji sat across from Moon, wedging himself between his brother and Morrison, and he eagerly pulled the noodles away and shoved a bowl towards Moon.

“Hey, I made you my special rice!” he said with a bright grin.

“What makes it so special?” Moon asked as he sat down at the very edge of the bench, squatting as usual.  “Is it like rose rice?”

“No, it’s better,” Genji insisted, and Jesse eyed Moon.  

“Let the kid eat, Genji.”  Morrison pushed the plate of noodles towards Moon, and Genji pulled it back and shoved the rice closer towards the teen.  

“Here we go, golden fried rice!” Genji crowed.  “Try it, you’ll like it.” He handed Moon his chopsticks and nodded at him.  “True Japanese culture, simple elegance, a time honored classic!” 

Moon eagerly began to eat.  Too much food couldn’t be a bad thing, right?  “Can I have some more green things?” he asked after a few bites and Genji spooned some in.  “Thank you.” Moon stirred the onions in and took several large bites, his hands barely holding the chopsticks steady.

“I have a new set of prosthetics almost ready for you, Moon,” Winston said as he poured some coffee.  “We’ll need to test them, of course.” He looked at Moon’s suddenly panicked face. “Just holding, rotating, simple things to make sure they work.”

Jesse pushed a mug of coffee towards Moon.

“New hands?”  Moon eagerly took a long drink of coffee, then put it down and shoved it aside with a wince.  

Morrison shoved a glass of apple juice at him instead, and Moon almost finished it in one gulp before attacking the noodles Mei shoved back towards him.

Jesse shoved a bowl of his Mexican rice next to Moon.  “Here, rose rice, just like Granny McCree used to make.”

So much food!  “Cool!” Moon pushed Genji’s golden fried rice aside and pulled the rose rice in front of him.  

“Aw, you don’t like my golden rice?” Genji asked in a sweet voice as he glared daggers at Jesse.

“I mean, I like it and all,” Moon said through a mouthful of Jesse’s rice, “but this stuff is good.  It’s got stuff in it.” Moon held out an offering on his chopsticks. “Try it, it’s good.” Moon could be surprisingly nimble with the limited motion his hands had.  

“I’ve had it before.”  Genji put his head close to Moon’s.  “What did he give you?”

“Rose rice?”  If Moon wasn’t confused he was a great actor.  He took another mouthful, then filled his mouth with noodles.  “What? You were here when he gave it to me.” 

Morrison stood up and checked the oven, and pulled out some the pork cutlets.

“I don’t know what you did,” Genji hissed at Jesse, “but I know you did something.  Did you bribe him?”

Jesse snorted and refilled Moon’s apple juice, then drank the coffee Moon abandoned.  “Could it be the kid just likes Mexican food?”

“I just really like the rose rice, it’s got flavors in it,” Moon said around another mouthful.  Morrison put the cutlets on the and dropped one in Moon’s bowl. Moon took a large bite. “And this stuff, too.”

“Pork cutlets,” Morrison said offhand, then put his datapad down.  “What did you eat before?” 

“Not a lot.”  Moon shrugged and bit into his noodles.  So much food, so much variety! Each day something different!  How much food was out there? “Mainly rice and peas. Bread. Sometimes apples.  Stuff that was easy to eat with a spoon.” 

Winston shoved the plate of buttered bread close to him, and Moon eagerly plucked a piece with his chopsticks.  Wonders never ceased!

“Moira fed us a lot, she liked healthy subjects, but after she left, it was just boiled rice and veggies, like peas or something.”  Moon eagerly eyed the fried egg Genji dropped on his golden rice, and slurped it down before going back to the noodles

“She left a project unfinished?” Morrison mused, and Moon nodded.  “That doesn’t sound like her.” 

Moon shrugged and sniffed another food new to him, a slice of something green.  Lúcio spread it on another piece and bread and Moon took it. “What is this?” 

“It’s avocado, a South Central Mexican fruit, and even more specifically, a single-seeded berry,” Winston said as he put two slices on his toast.  “They’re very healthy for you, they have vitamins B, K, C, E, some potassium,” he continued, and spotted everyone looking at him. “And diverse fats,” he added quickly.  “What, we should be educating him! I can’t imagine he went to school.”

“Nope.”  Moon took a strip and nibbled, then decided he didn’t like avocado.  If green had a flavor, it was avocado. He did, however, like the pork cutlets, and returned to his.

“Shouldn’t we ask Angela if so much food is good for him?” Winston asked.  “He’s been underfed for a while!”

“It’s tasty.”  Moon finished his rose rice and looked around the table, and Genji pushed the golden rice towards him.  Moon eagerly started to eat that, too.

“We should be carefully feeding him,” Winston insisted, “so he doesn’t get ill.  He just said he never ate well before. This can’t be good for his digestion!” 

Genji sat down at the edge of the table and deliberately shoved Moon until he was sitting next to Jesse.

“Don’t just move people,” Hanzo snapped.  “It’s uncivilized.”

“That’s Genji in a nutshell.”  Angela wafted into the room, finished the first coffee on the table she could reach, and rubbed her eyes.

“You sleep any, Angie?” Jesse asked and poured some coffee into Genji’s mug from the percolator.  

Angela drank it and blinked at the table.  She narrowed her eyes at Moon’s bowl, now half filled with pork cutlets and noodles.  Lúcio poured him another glass of apple juice, and Moon drank most of it. “Is anyone following the diet plan I had set out?”  

There was a general chorus of ‘no’ and ‘not really’ and Angela sighed.  

“He’s to eat lightly until he’s ready for things like pork chops!”

“It’s fine,” Moon said.  “I’m on, like, eight pieces and I feel fine.”  He shoved a giant bite of pork mince into his mouth.

“That is not healthy!” she hissed, and Lena laughed at her.

“Don’t worry, Ange, we’ll make sure he’s fine!  Just go about your day, love!” 

Angela shook her head and finished her coffee.  “I expect each of you to read the diet plans set out!  Jack, that is too much pork for a teenage boy, and too much for you!  Think of your sodium! Lena, you need more carbohydrates than that! Is that nothing but a plate of rice, Jesse?  At least Winston is eating properly! Is anyone taking their vitamins?” She pulled a few pages from the refrigerator.

“What’s vitamins?” Moon asked, and Angela muttered to herself in German.  

She turned and left and Moon looked after her.  

“Why’s she mad?”  His voice held a hint of panic.  Panicking adults were not safe to be around.

“She’s not mad,” Winston said as he buttered another piece of bread.  “She just wants everyone to be healthy.”

“Define healthy,” Moon asked as he shoveled more noodles into his mouth.

“Well, first of all, you need to learn to eat civilly.  I promise you, we’re not going to take your food from you.”  Morrison pushed the last cutlet towards him, and Moon eagerly bit into it.  “You don’t have to wolf it down.” How many calories did the kid need?

Moon nodded and tried to pick up the buttered bread with his chopsticks.  “Ah.” Moon didn’t seem to believe them. “Is there anything else for today?”

“You mean food wise?” Jesse asked and finished his coffee.  “I suppose desert.”

Moon shrugged and drained his cup and Morrison filled it again.  “I just don’t know what the days are like here. What my job will be.  I’m assuming you guys don’t pack drugs.”

“So,” Morrison said, “what were your days like before?  I’m just curious. I get up, go for a run, take a shower, have breakfast, do paperwork.  What did you do during the day?”

Moon blinked in thought.  “It, OK, my day?” Moon asked.  He didn’t get why it was interesting.  “Get up, go down the hall for breakfast.  Get checked out, hope you didn’t get the guy with grabby hands who breathed funny, get assignments.”  He counted off on his cybernetic fingers. “Sometimes it was packing drugs, you know, stuff you could do with your eyes closed.  I packed a lot, no fingers. Put the package on the scale, press the button, put the drugs in the box, put the sticker on the box, tape it shut.  Get a rest, go pee, get crap dinner, go to bed. Sometimes you got pulled aside, they turned your eyes on, and you did suit tests.”

“Suit tests?” Winston asked quietly.

“Yeah, turn it on, do the gestures, hope it didn’t explode.  They had speed suits, climbing suits, chameleon suits. You know, suits.  After Moira left they mainly did suit tests.” Moon finished his apple juice.

“What did they do when Moira was there?” Morrison asked carefully.

“She,” Moon said slowly, “you got in the chair.  She messed with you, did things. Sometimes it was injections, sometimes the tube.”  

Morrison was quiet.  

“It was like the magnetic tube, but, it burned.  Wang Min never made it out.” He shuddered. “Smelled like ashes for a week.”

Genji responded first, pulling the trash can close to Moon so he could vomit in it.  He waited for him to finish and let him rinse his mouth out. 

Jesse rubbed his back, smiling sadly down at him.  “C’mon, kid, let’s get you cleaned up. There you go, up and at ‘em!”  

  
  
  
  


“No, I’d be happy to do the presentation,” Winston said as he adjusted the blanket around his shoulders.  It caused Moon to settle and snuggle deeper, and Winston patter his head. “It’s in November, yes?” He held his phone between his shoulder and ear as he toggled his schedule.  He looked up as his door opened, and Lena skipped inside. “All right, just send me the details, please. Good bye.”

“How is he?” Lena asked quietly.  

Winston tucked his phone into his pocket.  “Still sleeping. Quite deeply, too.” Winston didn’t bother lowering his voice.

She swept some of Moon’s hair aside and gently pet his cheek.  “Oh, he’s so tiny!” she hissed. 

“He’s just barely shorter than you!” Winston chuckled.  The gorilla gave a tug and adjusted the teen.

“Yeah, but it’s not all the time I get to see someone else so tiny, yeah?” she laughed.  

“I’m not tiny,” Moon muttered from Winston’s shoulder.

Lena laughed and stroked his cheek.  “Yes, love, you are. Are you feeling better?”

Moon nodded and Lena helped him from Winston’s back.

“Then let’s get you changed and go for a walk before it gets too dark, the fresh air will do wonders for you!”

‘I like going outside,” Moon admitted and pulled his house shoes back on.  “We didn’t get to before.”

“Well, after you get more familiar with the area you can walk around all you like,” Winston said.  “But you’ve got to be careful of the ledges and the ocean!”

“Oh, he’ll be fine, love, he’s with me!  Come on, it’s getting dark, I want you to see the ocean!”

Moon let Lena lead him away, and Winston folded the blanket up.

  
  
  
  
  


Jesse opened the door to the smoking porch and sauntered outside.  It wasn’t so much a porch as an old fire escape, the steps latched shut and a few mats tossed down on the grating.  There were a few chairs, a cigarette tower for butts, and a small fan for circulation. Someone had hung wooden wind chimes a while ago, and they clacked quietly in the breeze.

“So,” Jesse asked as he struck a match to light his cigarillo, “what do you think of the kid?”

“He doesn’t like me.”  Morrison shook his head and took a long drag from his cigarette.  He liked the local brand which used just tobacco and a light filter.  

“What, don’t be stupid,” Jesse snorted.  “The kid likes us!”

“You, maybe.  Me, I punched him then asked him questions until he puked.”  

“He only warmed to me after I bribed him with a snack,” Jesse pointed out, punctuating his conversation with his cigarillo.  “And he likes his cuddles. Wouldn't have thought that from a kid his age.”

Morrison hummed in agreement.   “Angela doesn’t think he got a lot of positive reinforcement.  Can you see that? What is that?” Morrison asked as he gestured to a flickering light.  “I’ve seen it twice.” Lena had just popped out from around the corner, with a bright object following behind.  Morrison could see her kicking the water in the shallow tide.

“That’s Lena, and Moon,” Jesse said with a shrug.  “Why?”

Morrison tapped a button and pulled his visor off, then handed it over.  “My visor must be acting up. But Moon’s the only one out of focus.”

Jesse took it up and held it up to his eyes, but not close enough to touch the sensors to his temples.  He didn’t want the shock. “Huh, that  _ is  _ weird.”  He could make out Lena walking along the shore, but Moon was nothing but a bright smear in the visor.  Jesse lowered the visor and watched as Moon kicked some sand. “You ever see this before?”

“Last time I saw him outside he was leaving the hovercar.  He broke the visor.” Morrison took the visor once he felt Jesse tap it against his hand.  He put it back on with a wince and adjusted a setting. “Winston, you busy?”

“What is it, Jack?”

“What do you make of this?  Why’s the kid glowing?” 

There was a moment of silence as Winston connected the visor to his work station.  “That is odd, isn’t it? Let me have remote access?” Winston asked, and Morrison clicked a setting.

He could see several soft lights flickering along the visor, and a few menus popped up as Winston scanned through several settings.  

“Were you cycling through?  How did you get to this setting?”

Morrison shrugged.  “I was scratching my ear and activated it by accident.  Visor’s still not working right.”

“Use the green one,” Jesse groaned.

“No,” Morrison snapped firmly.  “It makes me look old.”

Jesse and Winston both suppressed a snort of laughter.

“We’ll talk to him about it in the morning.  How is he?” Winston asked quietly.

Morrison watched Lena and Moon walk back inside.  “He and Lena are heading in now, sun’s almost down.  They were playing in the surf.”

“I’m glad he’s able to play, Jack.  We should set up more socialization time for him.”  Winston broke the connection, then reinstated it. “Oh, that project you wanted is finished, you can pick it up any time.”

Jack thanked him and walked back inside.


	13. Chapter 13

August 08, 2080

Right Before Bed

  
  


“There you are,” Morrison said as he knocked on Moon’s door.  “Got something for you.”

Lena was loosely braiding Moon’s hair for bed, and the two looked up.

Moon stood up and took the long, white object Morrison handed him.  “What is it?”

“A body pillow.”  Morrison pulled open the flap and showed him the controls.  “It has a heating element and a white noise machine.”

Lena almost clapped her hands.  “Oh, Moon, this is nice, it’ll help you sleep!  It uses the usual controls, Jack?” Sleep aids were all too common on base.

Morrison nodded as Lena pulled the pillowcase open.  “You got this?”

“Yeah, I’ll show him, thanks Jack!” Lena chirped at him.  “OK, you look like an ocean waves and wind chimes sort of guy!”

“What’s a wind chime?” Morrison heard Moon ask as he walked to his own room.

  
  
  


August 09, 2080

After Breakfast

 

“How did you sleep?” Winston asked as he plopped Moon on the table.  It was quickly being learned that the teen could not keep two feet on the ground at the same time.

“Pretty good.  I like the pillow.”  Moon liked the ‘background conversation’ setting the best.  It reminded him of sleeping in the shared room with the other Moons.

Morrison nodded at him.  Sometimes, when he was alone at night, it was hard to sleep.  His own pillow had helped counter the loneliness.

“Excellent!”  Winston set a tray of cookies on the table.  “We’ve made great strides in deciphering some of Moira’s and Naomi’s notes.  For some odd reason, Moira made your hair bio-luminescent. It’s not very strong, but Jack’s visor can pick it up on certain settings.  I’m certain Genji can, too, if we alter his filters a little.” Winston flicked his holopad and several files scattered to the floating display.  “In fact, you have several odd things done to you.”

“I know,” Moon huffed.  He shrunk down when Winston gently placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Sorry.” He tucked his chin under his knees again, and worked on a cookie.

Angela rubbed Moon’s back.  “Oh, meine kleine mondmaus, don’t worry.”  

Moon jumped a little as she kissed the top of his head, and Angela pet his face softly as he relaxed.  It pleased her how positively he reacted to positive affection. “Here, we can do a little review. This is your molecular makeup,” Angela explained as she pulled up a slide.  “And here’s Jack’s, just for comparison.”

Moon examined them, noting his were smoother.  “So, my cells look like Morrison’s, but younger?” Moon asked, spotting the numbers, but he didn’t know what they meant.  “His are all wrinkly.”

Morrison sighed, then hauled him off the table and planted him on the chair, ignoring his parrot-like squawk.  “Yeah, that’s him,” Morrison said, hand on his chin. “You can see the sassmouth gene, right there.” He pointed at a slide.  “See it? Right next to glowing white hair and the gene that prevents him from sitting properly on a chair.” 

Moon slowly turned his head to glare at him.  

Morrison smirked at him.  “I’m older, kid, I’ve got more experience being mouthy.”

“Winston, is there really a sassmouth gene?” Moon demanded suddenly.

“Yes, it’s right there,” Winston said with an offhand wave.  “Next to hair, yes.” 

Moon glared at him, and Winston suddenly looked up.  

Something in his brain slid into place and he turned quickly.  “Wait, you have a change in your chemistry makeup.” He ambled over and brought up a new holo-screen, swiping and zooming.  “Look, here, see?” he said and stabbed a giant finger at the holo-screen. “You DO have a sassmouth gene!”

“What?” Moon asked, confused.  Winston expanded the holo-screen and handed it over, and Moon stood up on the chair and sat on the table again.  “I don’t know what any of this means, Winston. It’s all numbers and lines and shapes.”

Morrison put Moon back in the chair and flicked the end of the holo-screen, pulling a copy for himself.  He didn’t understand it entirely, but to never hurt to check.

Winston simply put Moon back on the table; he was easier to reach and the gorilla didn’t have to bend over.  “Here, see, these are your synapses. It’s a junction between two nerve cells, consisting of a minute gap across which impulses pass by diffusion of a neurotransmitter.”  He tapped his fingers on the holo-screen. “Your synapses have been altered using a technique created by Doctor Grandi.”

“Um, sure?” Moon said in confusion.

“Now, here, you can see there’s an actual electro and chemical change.  See, yours fire much faster.” Winston enlarged a screen and showed it eagerly, but only Angela seemed to understand.  “Now, taking into account your fast mouth, I can only assume, here, your protein and neuron structure is different, too.”

“What’s all this mean, Winston?” Morrison asked as he tilted the holo-screen a little to make the images move.

“I have really no idea what’s going on here,” Moon said, “and honestly, I was paying attention this time.”

‘It means,” Angela said brightly, “he thinks faster, but has lower inhibitions.”

“So, he’s got sassmouth,” Morrison concluded.  “I’m assuming it was to make him make hard, quick choices in combat?”  He looked over to Moon.

“I don’t think we need to test that,” the teen said quickly.  “I mean, I hate combat tests.”

“What tests, Moon?” Angel asked carefully.

“They just keep tossing stuff at you until you get hit.  Then you start again. And again. And again! And I don’t get to rest and I don’t get to eat and we do it again tomorrow until I get it right.”  Moon was shaking a little and he wrapped his arms around himself. The holo-screen flickered and vanished. “I don’t like the combat tests.”

Winston quickly scooped Moon up and slung him on his back, and Moon settled, arms draped over Winston’s shoulders.  

“There’ll be none of that, Moon, don’t worry,” Morrison said quietly.  “Wait, those numbers, I know those numbers. From SEP.” He tapped a chemical equation.  “That was on a list of files. I memorized it because I was bored.”

“It’s an SEP steroid.  There were several batches of serum made, given to people in groups of ten.”  Angela pulled up another file. “This is yours! Moon was given a sample of your batch.”  The fifty, seventy, and ninety batch were the most stable and had the highest success rate, followed by twenty and forty.  She looked to Moon and swept some hair from his face. “Were you given injections?”

“Sometimes, like, maybe?  Once a week? Twice?” he guessed.  Time was difficult for him to judge.  “But after they replaced my spine I got the injections there, instead of here.”  Moon stabbed at his back and then his collarbone, and Angela remembered the scars there; he must have had a stent.  “We had this thing, a bag? I had to sleep on my stomach,” he said and adjusted his knee as Winston shrugged his shoulders.  “It went from a bag to our dataport.”

“You went through SEP,” Morrison said quietly.  “But differently.” 

“How was it for you?” Moon asked.

Morrison sighed.  “It was hell. We had injections daily, sometimes we had to haul I.V.s around with us.  Sometimes we had to,” he said, and paused. “I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me a couple,” Moon said and rubbed his jaw, “but go on.”

“You’re a little punk.”  There was some affection in his voice.  “Sometimes we would have to get MRIs or other medical scans, and I forgot how horrible it was.  I’m sorry I threatened you with it.” His voice was quiet and sincere. 

“Oh.”  Moon shrugged, unsure what to do.  “Thank you.”

“I was seventy-six of one hundred.  Two died the first week, and we lost more men as it went on.  None of the eighties survived.” Morrison tugged on his chin. “I wouldn’t have made it without Gabriel.  It was almost like if you didn't have a friend, you didn’t make it.” He was thinking of nights spent with Gabriel, holding each other as their bodies burned with chemicals.  Only sixty of the first batch survived, eighty of the second, and ninety-seven of the third.

“I remember one guy was just sitting in the hall one night.  A lot of us had massive nose bleeds, he had the mother of them all.  Almost bled out from it. He was the only one without a buddy to survive.”  Morrison tapped a pen against the table, thinking of the rosary the man had struggled to say as he was carried to the medical wing.  

“There was a theory that certain chemicals interacted and having someone of an opposite reaction caused the chemicals to balance out, but there was no evidence of that,” Winston said as he flipped through his notes.

Morrison had heard that before.  “None of us paired up with someone of the same set.”  He was thinking, twenty-one and sixty-five, four and ninety-two, eighteen and forty-three.  Twenty-four and seventy-six.

“I think it was just the fact that you had someone to trust, someone to look after, that’s what helped,” Angela said as she pulled up another file.  “So many of the SEP soldiers bonded and worked together after leaving the program.”

“It was a lot easier with Kilo,” Moon said quietly.  “Our moms are sisters. What’s the word in english?” He repeated the word ‘cousin’ a few times.  “We, sometimes at night, she would come over and we’d just talk.” 

Morrison gave Moon’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  “I’m sorry, Moon.”

Winston gave a shudder.  “Now, this raises several questions.  SEP was dangerous in of itself, but someone has restarted it.  If we activate your program, Moon, from the notes, it looks like you can be incredibly strong.”

Moon nodded.  “Only when it’s turned on, though.”  He gave a shudder and Morrison squeezed his shoulder again.  “It, it burns, though. I don’t like it.”

Winston nodded.  “It looks like they can turn it, and your spine, off remotely.”

“Wait, stop, what?” Moon asked in a panic.  He gripped Winston’s neck, and Winston gently adjusted him.  “Don’t turn me off! I don’t like it!”

Winston reached up and patted Moon’s head gently.  “Don’t worry, we’ve removed all remote access to you.  We learned the hard way with Lau.”

“Who’s Lau?” Moon demanded.

“A man we treated with an artificial spine,” Angela explained.  “The casing to your spine was actually his once. Someone pared it down to fit you.”

“It would have been easier to just print one in a smaller form.  The had to take it apart and adjust each piece. The man has four inches of height on you!” Winston said.

“Most people do,” Morrison said, and Moon glared at him.

Winston shook his head.  “I have no clue how Hound ended up with it.”  

Morrison gave a cranky grunt as Genji pressed by him, then plucked Moon from Winston by his waist. 

“Need the pineapple, it’s calligraphy lesson time.  Laters!” Genji cheered and tried to walk away with the teen.  As he hefted Moon over his shoulders, Moon gave a yodel of displeasure.

“Pineapple?” Angela and Morrison mused, exchanging glances.

“We’re not done with him yet!” Winston exclaimed.

“Kid doesn’t know what’s going on, eyes are glossing over,” Genji said as Morrison put his hands under Moon’s armpits.  

Moon hauled on his hair and Morrison let go long enough for the teen to free his hair.

“I know what’s going on!” Moon insisted.  “Kinda,” he added quietly. “Mostly.” He didn’t mind that Winston pet his head again.

Morrison tried to lift Moon out of Genji’s hands.  “We’ve got some more biology to go over,” Morrison grumbled, and neither soldier nor ninja let go.

Genji sighed in a bored tone.  “OK, the too long, didn’t read of it all is that Morrison underwent experimentation that made him big and strong and fast, got that part?”  

Moon nodded and Genji continued.

“Someone found that research, and put it in your spine.  When your spine is active, you’re strong and fast but not that big, weirdly enough.  Someone is trying to make Soldier: 76 2.0, but this time, they want to shut the weapon off when it gets mouthy.  Now, rephrase it so we all know what’s going on.” 

Sometimes the others were startled to remember that Genji was an exceptionally intelligent man under his sentai themed armor and immature nature.

“OK, um, someone made weapons.  Weapons that have minds of their own and can’t be turned off.  Now, they’re making weapons they can turn off?” Moon offered, and Genji nodded.

“He’s been a weapon and a lab rat.  Let him be a kid,” he added quietly, and Morrison let go.  “Good, now that that’s done, we’re going outside for calligraphy.” Genji adjusted his grip so he was holding Moon under one arm and he made Moon wave.  He then turned and walked out, Moon still under his arm.

“We really shouldn’t let him get away with that sort of behavior,” Winston said and shook his head.  “But he’s right.” Winston started to sort the files.


End file.
